Summer Daze
by karraselle
Summary: New York, midJuly, the detectives of Major Case Squad must resolve the problems of: a series of jewelry store robberies, two murders, and one personal entanglement.BOC, sorry I'm just not a BA shipper!::Please review::
1. Chapter 1

**T**_**itle:** Summer Daze __  
__**Author**: karraselle __  
__**Genre**: crime drama/romance (het) __  
__**Characters:** Goren, Eames, Ross, and a cast of originals__  
__**rating:** M - MA __  
__**Summary**: New York, mid-July, the detectives of Major Case Squad must resolve the problems of: a series of jewelry store robberies, two murders, and one personal entanglement._

_**Warnings:** Sexual situations, language __  
__**Disclaimer:** I own neither the police drama concept nor the main characters. All publicly recognizable characters and places are the property of Universal Studios, NBC and Dick Wolf et al. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment purposes only and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks is intended. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are the intellectual property of the author. Any references to actual persons, places, things, or ideas have been altered for reasons of privacy and/or for artistic purposes._

**Summer Daze**

Chapter One:

Detective Robert Goren sat in the media room on the eleventh floor of One Police Plaza scanning hours of video tape from a variety of jewelry stores. He was investigating a series of small thefts that all seemed to have been carried out by the same individual. Together, the losses added up to more than two hundred thousand dollars.

A young woman would enter the shop with a display case during peak hours and attempt to sell her jewelry designs. While the owner and clerks were busy with customers, she would slip a few pieces into her pockets or purse and quietly leave the store. Although all of the shop owners had spoken with her, none were able to ID her. She never gave them a name.

Detective Alexandra Eames walked into the media room to join her partner, who sat astride an office chair engrossed in grainy black and white images.

"You get anything?" she asked.

"Our perp," he replied, "watch this."

He ran the tape back a bit and waited while Alex watched.

"Ink pens." She muttered.

"And this," he changed the tape and pressed play.

"Breath mints?"

"One more," he added, changing the tape again.

"Post-it notes…What does a jewel thief want with those?"

"There are more just like that on every tape. She's a kleptomaniac." Bobby answered.

Alex had learned a long time ago not to question her partner in matters of mental illness. He knew his stuff.

Captain Danny Ross leaned into the doorway and tapped on the glass wall, "The 33rd has your perp." He announced, "She's dead."

Eames and Goren rode through the streets of New York in their department SUV with the windows down.

"I can't believe the AC's broken." Alex huffed, "What is it? A hundred degrees out there?

"One hundred one, according to that bank sign" her partner responded absently, barely looking up from his notebook as he pointed.

Eames wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand and grumbled, "The guys from the 33rd just had to find a body in a fish market dumpster on the hottest day of the year."

"You know, Eames," Goren said, "I was thinking I'd interview the witnesses and let you examine the scene on this one."

"Not funny, Bobby."

Eames brought the vehicle to a stop near a group of squad cars at the rear of the Fulton Fish Market. There was a shimmer of heat rising from the pavement and the stink was incredible. Together, they emerged from the SUV and approached the officer in charge. Alex unconsciously placed a hand over her nose as she watched her partner climb into the dumpster full of fish heads to get a look at the body.

Goren examined the corpse of a young woman, late twenties, with short blond hair and long bangs that had been fashioned into six pink and blue braids. An empty purse and display case containing a lone business card which read "E. Morgan Designs" lay nearby, half buried in fish entrails.

"She was strangled," he stated in his usual matter of fact tone. "Probably," there was a loud squelch as he shifted his weight, pulled the purse from the muck and compared the strap to the ligature marks, "Yes. With this." He held it up for Eames to see and dropped it into a large evidence bag. He found a bluish, sticky mass next to the victim's head and raised it toward his face.

"Oh, God. Don't." Alex blurted, too late.

Her partner sniffed at the gob and announced, "Blueberry gum."

Eames turned away and made a sour face, "Where are the guys who found her?" she asked the young officer beside her, "I need to talk to them."

"Over there, Ma'am" the rookie replied, pointing, "We asked them to wait for you."

"Thanks." Alex nodded and added over her shoulder as she walked away, "If he smells anything else, I don't want to know."

Back at their desks, Goren and Eames went over what they knew and waited for what they didn't. They hoped they would be able to identify the dead girl from her fingerprints. A clerk walked by and dropped a report next to Alex.

"Got it." She said leafing through the pages, "Esther Morgan, twenty-eight years old, East Village address, couple of dope pops and, surprise-surprise, a whole bunch of shoplifting arrests over the last twelve years."

"Any convictions?" He asked, looking up from his notes.

Alex leafed back and forth through the report, "Only one, juvenile, eleven years ago, she got thirty days probation with mandatory psychiatric evaluation. Other than that, all the charges were dropped. Merchandise was returned or restitution paid."

"Somebody's been looking out for her."

"Until she started bringing home the big ticket items." Eames added.

"We need her psych file." Bobby stated.

"I'll order it. Until it comes in, we can check out her apartment and talk to the neighbors. Maybe she had a boyfriend."

The small, clean but cluttered, studio apartment on Eighth Street offered few answers for the detectives. The kitchen table was scattered with jewelry making tools and materials. Dirty clothes were piled at the foot of the bed. Dishes mounded on the kitchen counters. Everything the girl owned seemed to be stacked up in plain sight. There was not one bill, notice, check, or even so much as a love letter anywhere. Bobby did find her "treasure chest", a neatly stacked tower of pizza boxes in a corner of the den. Each one contained hundreds of ink pens, paper clips, mints, thumbtacks and a myriad of other small, inconsequential items she had stolen.

"Maybe the jewels are hidden somewhere else." Eames suggested.

"No," Bobby shook his head, "Kleptomaniacs' compulsion to steal stems from feelings of guilt or tension, sometimes coupled with depression. The objects are either returned surreptiously, or kept and hidden in a specific location. The way that a pack rat will steal to line its nest."

"This rat's nest should have a two hundred thousand dollar lining."

"Someone had to be taking advantage of her." Bobby retorted, "Let's talk to the neighbors."

Goren and Eames made their way through the entire building, knocking on doors, asking the same questions over and over again, and having more than a few doors slammed in their faces.

"They aren't going to talk to us." Goren said after the fourth door was banged shut by a young person with crayola colored hair. "Punks get targeted by the police all the time. They don't trust us."

Of the neighbors who did speak with them, none of them knew much about the young lady in 12B. Just that she seemed nice enough and she made interesting jewelry. The superintendent was most helpful. He told them that the girl's parents paid all of her bills, he'd never seen any sign of a boyfriend, and he thought she spent her weekends hanging out at a local punk bar called Maurice's Tavern. He'd seen her outside the place more than once with a group of kids on his way home from a night out.

A quick phone call confirmed that Maurice's Tavern had live music every Thursday, Friday, and Saturday night. They were told to come early "because the place fills up fast." Bobby and Alex made a date to play dress up the next night, called it a day, and went home.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

Thursday was a day in the office for the detectives. The medical examiner's report was on Goren's desk when he arrived, their interviews from the previous evening had to be written up for the report, the victim's parents had to be interviewed, and the psychiatrist's file arrived in the afternoon.

The medical examiner didn't really say anything that Bobby didn't already know. He helped Eames type up the neighbor's statements and, together, they interviewed Mr. and Mrs. Morgan.

The parents were too distraught to be any help at all. They denied that their daughter had any sort of problem, even after they were confronted with her record. The psych file, however, taught Goren quite a lot about Esther Morgan.

"…Esther Morgan, a 17-year-old juvenile, was referred for psychiatric evaluation by the criminal court judge. Esther has been placed on probation by the juvenile court. She deposited cash payments made to the establishment for which she worked into her own account.

Esther was accompanied to the psychiatric interview by her mother, a well-dressed, upper-middle-class matron who provided additional, and often contradictory, information to that given by Esther.

Esther has been repeatedly apprehended for shoplifting and has, on several occasions, 'borrowed' the credit cards of her mother and father, charging thousands of dollars for clothing, jewelry, food, and cosmetics. As a child and young adolescent, Esther had frequently stolen money from her father's wallet and her mother's purse. Teachers at school had learned that if anything was missing, Esther's desk or locker was the first place to look. When Esther was apprehended, her mother would make plausible excuses for Esther and then pay for whatever loss she had caused. Everyone, including Esther, agreed that she had no need to steal. Her mother was indulgent and provided her with essentially anything she wanted.

Esther continued, however, to steal and lie repeatedly. Esther lied about everything, how much money her father earned, how many boyfriends were pursuing her, and how well she was doing at school. When caught stealing, she inevitably had a reasonable excuse for why she had something that did not belong to her. To further complicate her story, Esther also secretly engaged in bulimia and would, once or twice a week, binge and induce vomiting.

From this psychiatrist's viewpoint, the information about Esther's family was very revealing. Her father is described as a successful surgeon whose compulsive gambling led to repeated financial crises that had been kept secret from the children. He is also described by the mother as a 'pathological liar' who skillfully covers his absences from the hospital and office with plausible excuses so that he can see his bookie. His father, Esther's paternal grandfather, was an alcoholic. So was Esther's maternal grandfather.

The overriding dynamic in Esther's family is the attention provided to her older brother, a minor league baseball player. Almost all family activities throughout her childhood have centered on this brother and his athletic accomplishments. Her father may not have been able to take time from his busy medical practice to attend Esther's piano recitals, but he never missed a Little League or high school baseball game. Esther's mother dotes on the young man, indulges him, and has rescued him from his past minor misdemeanors.

Esther was referred for psychological testing that revealed mild dyslexia, in addition to the underlying depression and mixed impulse control disorder: kleptomania, bulimia, and compulsive lying. Once again, with the behind-the-scenes interventions of her mother, the judge ordered a brief period of probation and mandated psychiatric treatment. Esther canceled the first appointment that was scheduled after the end of her probation and never returned for further treatment…"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

Alex Eames pulled her car to the curb in front of her partner's apartment building and waited. She looked into the rearview mirror applied a smear of dark burgundy lipstick. She turned as the passenger door opened and watched Bobby fold himself into the shotgun seat of the compact car.

"Hey," she greeted him, "Wow…you look…um…"

"I know." Goren answered turning the mirror to look at himself and running a hand through his graying curls. "Do you think one of your nieces or nephews might have some of that colored hairspray left over from Halloween?"

Eames shook her head and stated flatly, "I don't think it would make any difference, Bobby, you're still going to look like the creepy old guy at the bar."

Bobby looked at his partner with a half-smile, "Ouch."

"I'm sorry," she responded, "It's just, these people are kids and…"

"I know." He interrupted, "You're right. That's the angle I'll play."

"So, we'll separate." She agreed, "You go in first. I'll park the car and come in a few minutes later."

With a plan of action in place, Eames pulled the car into traffic and headed for the East Village to join the American Counterculture.

Maurice's Tavern was very simple compared to other bars in the city. A long bar stretched the length of one wall, bare concrete floors, Formica topped tables with stackable vinyl cushioned chairs, and walls papered with flyers for the hundreds of bands that had performed there throughout the years. There was a stage at the back with a dance floor/mosh pit in front of it surrounded by padded railing.

It was nine o'clock, and the place was already swarming with exotic-looking kids in their twenties. The band, a group called Succubus Blush, was just starting their first set. Goren made his way to a table on the far side of the mosh pit and ordered a beer.

Bobby usually liked going undercover, but here in this bar…This punk haven filled with young people covered in tattoos and body piercing…He felt out of place. He was surprised, however, to find that he enjoyed the music.

Succubus Blush; a band consisting of four bare-chested-tattoo-sporting-nipple-pierced young men and a girl with multi-colored pigtails, was playing hard rocking covers of old songs he'd loved as a kid. Their banter was amusing, the way the petite female singer kept announcing to the crowd how much she hated the mountain of a drummer and threatening him with all manner of violent acts.

During an interesting rendition of "Louie, Louie", the bassist pushed her off the front of the stage into the mosh pit. Bobby was about to jump to her rescue when he saw her come up swinging and proceed to butt-stomp her way back to the stage, all without missing a single note in the song. Back onstage and still singing, she marched up to the bassist and kicked him in the shin. Goren had to laugh. The act was so little-girlish, made more so by her pigtails and plaid schoolgirl skirt. However, with the knee high combat style boots she was wearing, the kick looked pretty painful. The bassist's staccato shriek confirmed his suspicion.

Bobby scanned the crowd, looking for his partner. Eames looked good. It was an amazing transformation. Her hair hanging limply from her scalp, torn t-shirt, tight black pants, and too much eyeliner…She didn't look much older than the kids around her at the bar. She fit right in. Bobby, on the other hand; even in his ripped jeans and Ramones t-shirt; stuck out like a sore thumb. He watched as Eames showed Esther Morgan's business card to a couple and hoped she would have better luck getting the information they needed. Even though the band had stopped playing and people had begun to mingle, the local patrons were avoiding him like the plague.

"So, what's it like being a cop?"

The melodic voice at his shoulder startled him from his reverie. He turned to see the girl from the band smiling at him.

"What?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

"Oh! Come on!" the girl laughed in reply and flopped into the chair next to him, "Look at you…there's a smell of bacon floating around everything about you!"

He got made. He knew it was inevitable and he might as well use it to his advantage.

"Does that make you nervous?" He cocked an eyebrow at her and put a little menace into his voice, hoping that he sounded suitably tough and unyielding to fit a punk girl's perceptions of the NYPD without scaring her off. Astonishingly, she laughed even harder.

"Is it supposed to?" she challenged, her green eyes sparkling.

"You got any warrants?" he threatened.

Bobby expected her to curse or spit at him for the remark, but the look on her face when he said it told him he was about to receive more humor-laced impertinence.

Before she could give her retort, the guitarist interrupted the conversation by banging on the table and shouting good naturedly.

"Break's over, pig-fuck, let's get back to work."

The girl rose to follow him and turned back to Bobby with a smart-assed grin, "Summer Davis, license number 2027543, look it up."

He couldn't help but chuckle at the impudence of the unexpected young lady as he watched her flounce away. He didn't know if there would be any connection to his case, but it was the only information he'd managed to gather. So, he jotted her name and license information on a napkin and stuffed it in his pocket.

He almost made it through the next set before the beer he'd been nursing made its way through his kidneys. As he emerged from the men's room he felt a hand grasp his arm and turned sharply.

"Hey," his partner whispered loudly, "Everyone here has you made."

"I know." He replied dismally.

"Well, they haven't connected us yet. I think it's better if we split up. I've got a group of them ready to go out for waffles after the show. Can you get yourself home?" Eames asked, constantly scanning the area to make sure no one saw them together.

"Yeah, it's fine." He answered, "Have a good time."

Alex threw a dirty look at him over her shoulder as she walked away, "Ha-ha."

Bobby returned to his table and ordered another beer. Alone in a crowd, as usual, he listened to the music, sipped his beer, and hoped Eames was finding something, anything that would give them a solid lead.

The band wrapped up their final set with the most violent interpretation of "Dance to the Music" by Sly and the Family Stone that Goren had ever witnessed. It began with the girl, Summer, ordering the crowd to the dance floor.

"Get on up and dance to the music…I SAID, Get on up and dance to the fuckin' music!"

Followed by the entire band singing a modified chorus, "Dance to the music. Slam-dance to the fuckin' music."

Then, similar to the original song, there was an exchange in which they introduced each other and their various instruments.

Summer yelled, "Hey, Andrew!"

"WHAT?!?" The drummer screamed so fiercely that Bobby thought he might jump over the drum kit and rip her face off.

Summer sang, "All we need is a drummer, who only likes to beat his meat."

Andrew started a lively rhythm and the bassist sang out, "Jarv's gonna add a little guitar to make it easy to move your feet."

The guitarist played his solo and added, "Kai's gonna add some bottom, so the dancers just won't hide."

A solid bass riff began and the, as yet unnamed, keyboardist jumped in with, "You might wanna sit on my organ…Uh-huh, ride Sally ride!"

"You might like to see this bitch blow…Summer on my horn, yeah!" the drummer shouted tunefully.

There was no trumpet, or brass instrument of any kind on the stage and Summer had a look of pure malice as she grabbed a beer bottle from the edge of the stage and hurled it toward his head.

Meanwhile, the rest of the band continued into the chorus. "Dance to the music. Mosh to the fuckin' music!"

Summer jumped about onstage as they continued to sing, introducing a large number of instruments that didn't actually appear either in the original song or on the stage. About halfway through the verse, she bumped into Kai, the bassist, who was caught off balance and crashed into the keyboard, knocking it to the floor. The keyboardist punched him in the face.

"Jesus, Johnny!" Kai screeched, "She did it." He reached out and smacked Summer.

The guitarist, Jarv, threw down his Fender and tackled the bassist. "Never hit my sister!" he screamed, and the brawl was on.

Bobby considered breaking it up, but the crowd was cheering and the bartender and wait-staff seemed completely unconcerned. He decided it would be best not to get involved. The drummer played a fifteen minute solo while his band mates beat the crap out of each other, shook hands, made up, and began taking down the equipment. When the stage was empty of all but the drum kit, Andrew stopped mid-beat, stood up and shouted, 'Thank you! Goodnight!"

From the reaction of the patrons, Bobby deduced that this must be the way the band always finished their show. The bartender announced last call and he decided to have one more drink before heading home. While he was paying the waiter, the singer reappeared at his side, grabbed his beer and took a huge swallow.

"Get him another, Toby." She instructed the waiter.

Bobby looked at her for a second, considering how to respond. His cop routine had done nothing to gain him access to any real case-related information. He finally decided to match her playful approach.

"If you wanted me to buy you a drink…" he began with a smile.

Her musical laughter delighted his ears as she again took up a chair next to his. "Mine are free. Toby'll be back in a minute."

They waited in silence for the waiter to return. He couldn't understand why, but he suddenly felt like a tongue-tied high school kid sitting next to this bold young woman who was so casually drinking his beer. Sure, she was pretty in an unconventional way and funny, and there was something appealing in her flippant personality. That she was flirting with him was not in question.

'But she's just a kid.' He criticized himself silently for even considering the possibility.

Toby returned with a fresh beer and Bobby tipped him for his trouble.

Summer heaved a sigh; she couldn't understand why he didn't just ask her, already. He wasn't here to watch drug traffic, Maurice kept the place clean. There was only one reason a cop, even a good-looking one with a Ramones t-shirt, would sit there through the entire show without hassling anybody or making an arrest.

"So, you're here to find out who killed Star, right?" she finally blurted.

Bobby was taken aback, "Um…Star?"

"Esther Morgan…we called her Star."

"Of course," he nodded, flipping the encyclopedia in his brain to the page on names, "Esther is Hebrew for star…"

Summer smiled, clearly impressed. "That's right."

Goren's mind immediately switched modes from thinking about how to respond to sassy, flirtatious, pretty punk singers without sounding awkward, old, or ridiculous to the open case on his desk, "How did you know Star?"

Summer jumped out of her seat, "Chug that down," she said, indicating his beer bottle, "I'll get my gear."

"What?" Bobby was usually very good at reading people, but this chick was all over the map.

"They're closing up." She explained, "There's an after-hours place just down the block. You can buy me that drink and we'll talk."

Summer Davis turned out to be a fountain of information. But that information came at a price. Summer liked to drink after a show and she expected the detective to drink with her. When the barmaid arrived to take their order he asked her to bring "Whatever the lady would like."

"Whaler's and diet" Summer gave her order and asked, "What about you?"

"No," Bobby shook his head politely, "I…"

"Bullshit." She interrupted, "What are you, some kind of lightweight?...A big guy like you?"

He couldn't help blushing at the implied compliment in her voice, "Uh…Well…I, um, I'm…"

She rolled her eyes and said, "Don't give me some crap about being on duty. You were drinking at Maurice's."

"I-I know…it's just…now" he was getting angry with himself for struggling with his words. 'She's just a little girl, why can't I figure her out?' he thought.

"Never mind." Summer huffed and started to rise.

"Wait." Bobby said sharply, "Okay…" he turned to the waiting barmaid, "Scotch and soda, please."

Bobby's massive intellect could not conceive how someone so tiny could drink so much. He was having trouble keeping up with her. He tried to write everything down, but his vision was beginning to get blurry from the late hour and too much alcohol. Not to mention that her resistance to the idea of sticking to one subject had him considering the possibility that she may be bi-polar. The rowdiness of her band mates at a nearby table was not helping his concentration, either.

Goren ordered drink after drink while Summer wound her way through endless changes of subject and emotion. One moment she would talk about her friend, Star, with misty tears that glistened in impossibly green eyes but never fell. The next, she would be laughing; flirting and teasing him about his cop-like behavior. An instant later, she would be shouting angry threats and obscenities at her band mates.

Every time she started to speak, they would scream "pig-fuck" and laugh like lunatics. Finally, Summer had enough. She excused herself and walked over to their table. She kicked the keyboardist; Johnny Napalm Bobby had learned his stage name was; to the floor, chair and all. While the young man picked himself up, she made some very specific, violently obscene threats to the group. That was the last thing Bobby knew.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

Detective Goren woke with a pounding in his skull and was horrified when he opened his eyes. His face was tingling and it seemed as if he was looking at the world through a purple, red, and black veil. He braced his hands on the mattress and tried to sit up slowly. That's when he realized he was not alone in his bed.

A naked young woman was curled up beside him. Her long, multi-colored hair had been strewn across his face. Bobby let out a sigh of relief and tried to remember what happened the night before.

It wasn't everyday that he woke up with a strange woman in his bed. It wasn't very often that he woke up with a woman he was acquainted with, either. One night stands simply weren't Robert Goren's style.

He had to wonder why. Was there something special about this girl? It wasn't that she was attractive. Physical beauty he could resist. Had she shown him something about herself that he found truly irresistible? Did she have a good heart? A brilliant mind? Or…

"Please, God, no." he whispered aloud to himself. Was he turning into his father?

He stumbled to the bathroom, took a couple of aspirin, showered, dressed, and tried to remember her name. There was a moment of panic when she rolled over in her sleep and he was afraid she would wake up. More than anything, he did not want to face her without knowing her name.

"Who are you?" he whispered fervently.

He walked to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. He dug in the refrigerator for some fruit and munched an apple while considering how he could gracefully wake the young lady and ask her to leave without using a name he couldn't remember.

He scanned the apartment for clues to her identity. There was a guitar case leaning against the wall next to the front door. His motorcycle boots stood sentry in front of it. Most of his books that lined the shelves in his living room were scattered on the floor. His Ramones t-shirt was turned wrong side out and dangled crazily from a rail on his treadmill. A single history tome lay open on the coffee table.

He picked it up and read, "Saraswati-Hindu Goddess of Rivers, Art, and Music. The Goddess Saraswati is often depicted as a beautiful, olive-skinned woman with green or golden eyes and dressed in pure white, often seated on a white lotus (although Her actual vahana, or mount, is believed to be a swan), which symbolizes that she is founded in the experience of the Absolute Truth. Thus, she not only has the knowledge but also the experience of the Highest Reality. She is mainly associated with the color white, which signifies the purity of true knowledge.

A white swan is often located next to her feet. The sacred swan, if offered a mixture of milk and water, is said to be able to drink the milk alone. The swan thus symbolizes discrimination between the good and the bad or the eternal and the fleeting Due to her association with the swan; Goddess Saraswati is also referred to as Hamsa-vahini, which means 'she who has a swan as her vehicle'.

She is usually depicted near a flowing river, which may be related to her early history as a water goddess. The swan and her association with the lotus flower also point to her ancient origin.

Sometimes a peacock is shown beside the goddess. The peacock represents arrogance and pride over its beauty, and by having a peacock as her mount, the Goddess teaches Hindus not to be concerned with traditional beauty and to be wise regarding the eternal truth."

Obviously the guitar belonged to the girl in his bed and that must have inspired him to look up that particular article. He began placing his books back on their shelves and noticed a balled up cocktail napkin next to the phone. He smoothed it out and found the name Summer Davis followed by a license number.

It was starting to come back to him now. Going undercover with Eames, the bar, lots of drinking, the interview…'Oh God, she's a witness' the thought struck him with horror. A tune played over and over at the fringes of his memory. He couldn't place it; maybe it was something the band had played. The band! She was a singer.

"What have I done?" He asked himself.

He walked back to the bedroom and found her standing by the bed, stretching.

"Um, Good morning, uh, Summer." He smiled nervously.

"Morning." She smiled back brightly, tossing her bed rumpled hair, "Mind if I shower?"

Bobby marveled at her complacency, standing completely naked in a stranger's bedroom. He didn't think he'd ever been so uncomfortable standing fully dressed in his own. She really was a lovely creature. "Uh…Not at all," he stammered, trying to force himself to keep his eyes averted, "I-I do have to…um… go to work soon…"

"I'll be quick." She replied and scurried toward the bathroom, "Oh, say…" she called, causing him to turn toward her.

"Yes?" he answered, turning his gaze away quickly.

"Do you have some clothes I could borrow?"

He peeked at her tiny frame, blushed, and chuckled, "Nothing that's going to fit."

"I don't care. It's just that putting on the clothes you were wearing the night before on the morning after…Kinda makes a girl feel like the whore of Babylon."

"Oh." Her matter of fact statement defied argument. There was definitely something refreshing in her straight forward manner. "Um, There are some t-shirts in the dresser…H-Help yourself," he offered.

As he went about gathering his things for work he silently berated himself. 'What's wrong with you, Goren...She's too young…You're too old…She's involved in your murder investigation for Christ's sake…"

He sat at the kitchen table with his notebook and a mound of scrawled upon cocktail napkins, trying to decipher his own drunken handwriting. Slowly, he was shaking the feelings of disgust he had with his own behavior and the feelings of attraction he was experiencing for Summer. As he wrote, he began to recall all the bits of information Ms. Davis had revealed.

The victim had been married to Kai Hameltt, the bassist in Succubus Blush, for seven years until their divorce three years ago. The divorce had been amiable and the couple remained good friends. It was believed that Star had a girlfriend but no one had ever seen her.

"Thanks, I feel much better."

Bobby looked up at his guest and tried to suppress a grin. She wore her knee high combat boots and had used her belt to cinch a plain black t-shirt loosely at her hips like a dress. Her wet hair was combed and streaming down her back. If it weren't for certain obvious endowments, she would have looked exactly like a preschooler playing dress up.

"You're, uh, welcome." He replied, "There's coffee, if you want some."

"Please." She nodded, taking a seat at the table.

He got up and fetched a mug from the cupboard, "I-I'd offer you breakfast…"

"That's okay," she interrupted, "I have to get to work, myself."

"Cream or sugar?"

"Black."

Bobby set the steaming mug in front of her and reached for his wallet, "Here's my card," he said, deftly extracting one and holding it out to her. "You can call me if you think of anything else to tell me about Ms. Morgan." He steered the conversation to the business of his case. He was much more comfortable 'on the job'.

Summer accepted the card and looked at it sadly for a moment, remembering Star. Then she broke into a grin and quipped, "I thought you were the one that was supposed to call me."

Time to face the inevitable. He took a deep breath, looked at her earnestly, and spoke in his most professional voice, "Look, Ms. Davis…"

"Ms. Davis?!?" she looked at him as if he were crazy.

"Alright, S-Summer…" he continued, "I owe you an apology. Um…Last night wasn't supposed to happen. It was, uh, highly u-unprofessional of me…"

"I'll say." She grinned at him.

"I'm serious." He stated firmly, "I'm investigating your friend's murder. Getting in-involved with you is un…ethical. That aside," he paused and let out a quiet sigh, "You're young and …"

She burst out laughing. She laughed so hard tears ran down her cheeks. "Not that young." She gasped between her gales of laughter.

Bobby looked confused, "What's so funny?"

She took a moment to regain control of herself before she answered, "We had the same conversation last night…You don't remember." She began to giggle again.

"You're right. I don't…I was…um…very drunk."

"I know." She replied mirthfully, "You called me a Goddess…You know, I thought it was the most ludicrous line I'd ever heard until you tore the place up looking for that book. You read me a whole bunch of stuff about a Hindu Goddess of music."

"Saraswati." He informed her quietly.

"Yeah, that was it." She smiled sweetly, "How could a girl resist after that?"

"I- I'm sorry." He replied miserably, "I shouldn't have taken advantage…"

"You didn't" she giggled, "I mean; you did, but not right away. You kept stopping and arguing with yourself. It was cute. You finally had to call in my license before you'd sleep with me."

"I did?" He couldn't believe his own behavior was such a mystery.

"Yes." She mouthed the word as she nodded, hilarity taking control of her once more, "Check your fax machine…"

Bobby shook his head as if to clear it, "That's not the point. You are involved in a case…"

"No!" she said emphatically, a wicked grin playing across her mouth. "You said, for the record, and I quote, 'To hell with Ross. I'll love you forever if you promise to keep doing that.' I kept my end of the bargain…Who's Ross?"

"My Captain…W-What was th..at?" Bobby wasn't really sure he wanted to know.

Summer leaned forward until she was barely an inch from his face before she was able to catch his eyes. "Don't worry, detective. You had a great time," she whispered. Then she quickly brushed her lips against his cheek and announced, "I've really got to get to work." She jumped up, grabbed her bundle of clothes and her guitar case, and opened the door, "I'll call you and set up something to get your shirt back to you."

The words leapt out of Bobby's mouth before he could stop them, "You can bring it by whenever you want."

She smiled and dropped him a wink. Then the door closed and she was gone. Bobby felt like a cooling but disruptive whirlwind had just blown through the apartment, leaving him refreshed and bewildered. He genuinely liked her. She seemed bright, lovely, talented, and most of all, honest. So few women could experience his endless quest for knowledge and still seem interested. For the first time in his career, Robert Goren cursed the job. The thought was fleeting, however, and he quickly reverted to kicking himself.

He went to the fax and picked up the lone piece of paper. He glanced at her stats and placed it in his notebook.

"Thirty-five" he muttered as he grabbed his keys, "she sure doesn't look it."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

Detective Alexandra Eames was sitting at her desk going over her notes from the previous evening's interviews when her partner arrived.

"Good morning." He greeted her as he sat at the desk facing hers.

"Hi." She replied.

"Did you get anything useful?" He asked, indicating her notes.

"A few names," she stifled a yawn, "not much for being out till 3a.m…How about you? I saw you talking to that singer as I was leaving. Did you pump her for information?"

"Yes," Bobby answered a little too quickly, willing himself not to blush at his partner's choice of words. "She was a friend of the victim. Star, by the way."

"Yeah, I got that from the kids I was talking to." Eames put in, "No boyfriend, she was a lesbian."

"Although she was married," Goren nodded.

"Right," Alex looked at her notes, "to the bassist in the band that was playing last night."

Her partner checked his own notes, "Kai Hamlett. The band is called Succubus Blush. Star was friends with her ex-husband as well as the other band members. Did you get a name on her girlfriend? Summer…uh…Summer Davis…the singer…said she had one but didn't know a name."

"No." Alex said slowly as she flipped through the pages in front of her, "All I got was that they thought her girlfriend worked a Macy's. Sounds like we need to talk to the boys in the band…"

"Let's run their names through the computer. They seemed…resistant…last night. If they have warrants, it might help them open up." Bobby suggested.

Eames nodded and turned to her computer.

"I already have the stats on Ms. Davis." Goren said, handing her the single faxed sheet from his notebook, "She's clean, not even so much as a parking ticket."

"Well, you've already talked to her." Alex stated, "What about the others? Names?"

He pawed through his notes and called them out to his partner. One by one she brought up the files on her monitor. "Jerry Karma Vishnu Davis, aka Jarv…"

"Jerry Karma Vishnu?" Eames laughed.

Bobby nodded, "Ms. Davis' brother. She said their parents were hippies…"

"You think?" she grinned as her nimble fingers flew over the keyboard, "Here we go…one juvenile arrest for vandalism…and, more currently…a warning on a 417…"

"Brandishing a weapon." Her partner stated.

"Yeah," she replied, "No outstanding warrants, though…Next?"

"Baruch Kai Hamlett goes by Kai…" he read.

"Baruch?"

"It's a German name." he answered.

"Okay…Numerous arrests for public indecency, public intoxication, vandalism…There! A VC 10852 warrant…vandalism to a vehicle…Let's see…" with a few clicks she opened the case file, "Gross."

"What?" Bobby asked.

"They've got him on video taking a dump on somebody's dashboard."

"Uh…Let's move on…" he recommended, "Andrew McKown"

Alex made a face at the screen and turned to him, eyebrows raised, "I have four…"

Bobby thanked God that his alcoholic haze was lifting as he closed his eyes and tried to picture the drummer, "White male…long brown hair…late twenties…approximately 6'6"…bulky…I'll say around 300 pounds."

"Hmmm…This looks close…" she turned her monitor so her partner could get a better look, "That him?"

"Yes." He leaned closer and read, "harassing phone calls…hit and run…one misdemeanor DUI…" he glanced at his notes and gave her the last name, "How about Jonathan Newsome, aka Johnny Napalm."

She typed in the name, made a disgusted noise and rolled her eyes, "Forty-six."

"Try just the East Village addresses…"

"Okay…Nine."

"He's young." Bobby said, visualizing the keyboardist, "Maybe early twenties…short stature, slight build…bright blue spiked hair."

"No blue hair, but here's a nineteen year old…rest of the physical fits…Jodie Lane Place address…What do you think?"

Goren got up and walked around the desks to stare at the picture on Eames' computer, "Similar…I can't be sure…The address seems right…It's within a few blocks of the others...If there are warrants it'll be worth a try."

Alex scrolled down and found a single outstanding warrant for vandalism. She called the warrants in and while the detectives waited for the hard copies to arrive they continued transcribing and comparing their notes.

It must have been a busy day in clerical because they didn't receive the warrant papers until sometime past two o'clock. After a brief discussion, they decided to head for the Saint Mark's address first since the apartment was inhabited by three of the band members, Jarv, Kai, and Summer.

Jerry Karma Vishnu Davis, Jarv to his friends, smiled when he saw his friend Johnny standing among the crowd in Union Square that was listening to him sing. He finished the song with a flourish and thanked his small audience.

'Hey, Napalm, How's it going?" he said as he gathered the bills and coins from his open guitar case and replaced them with the instrument.

"Good, man…How'd you do?" his young friend replied.

"Not bad…Looks like more than a hundred…" the tall man with the Elvis hair-do responded, shoving the money into his pocket, "I LOVE tourist season…"

The friends chatted amiably and walked together to Washington Square Park. As they approached the entrance they could see a throng of people jostling for position and heard them gasp in horror and delight. They managed to shove their way in and get a good look just as their buddy Kai was performing his grand finale. They cheered wildly when the last two inches of a three foot broadsword entered his mouth.

Kai slowly removed the weapon from his esophagus, bowed and thanked the amazed crowd. Jarv and Johnny approached as he piled his various swords and fire sticks into an old keyboard case. He dumped the dirty water from a collapsible bucket and tossed it on top of his other tools before closing the battered black box.

"Hey" he nodded to his band mates, "Johnny? What's up with your hair?"

The boy grinned, his bright blue hair framing his face like a bad Beatles cut. "The Liberty Spikes came unraveled. You think you could help me shape it again?"

"Yeah." Kai answered, picking up his case and a small cage containing a medium-sized green snake, "This time we'll use Superglue instead of Elmer's."

The trio started the trek to Tompkins Square Park and talked about street performing, tourist money, and how Johnny's Mom was doing along the way. They found Summer far from her usual spot, perched on the back of a park bench strumming her acoustic guitar and singing a sweet ballad as though she actually enjoyed it. The scattered group around her clapped and a couple of them tossed money into the open guitar case at her feet. She smiled and thanked those who paid and acknowledged her friends.

"Hi Jarv…Johnny, little man, how's it going?...Hey, Snake, I missed you…" she leaned toward the cage Kai was holding and made kissy noises at his pet.

"I love you, too." Kai droned.

Summer laughed as she placed her guitar gently in its case and joined them for the walk back to the apartment on St. Marks to meet Andrew for band practice.

After driving in Friday afternoon traffic in an un-air-conditioned vehicle and walking up five flights in the sweltering stairwell, Eames was in no mood. She pounded on the door viciously after knocking twice with no answer.

"Come on, Eames, they're not home." Bobby said soothingly as he tried to steer her back toward the stairs.

For a moment he felt relieved. He knew they had to speak with these young people for the sake of the case, but Summer had been so forward and blatantly honest with him that morning. The last thing he wanted was for his partner to find out he'd slept with a witness.

There was a clamor in the foyer below and he stepped to the edge of the landing and looked over the rail. The band had just come in. Jarv was getting the mail from their box while Andrew, dressed in garbage man's coveralls, led the procession up the stairs, trying to tell them about his day.

"So, you see, I opened this can and there, right on top with hardly any dirt on it was…"

That's as far as he got before Kai, doing a great impression of Fred Schneider of the B-52s, sang in a quick-time syllabic beat. "Don't you dig my Welfare t-shirt?"

"Found it in the trash!" the others joined in.

"No, come on, this is cool…" Andrew attempted.

Johnny joined in with his impression, "I sure love my platform flip-flops"

"Found 'em in the trash!" sang his compadres.

Summer didn't even wait for Andrew to protest before adding her verse, "Got an original Elvis demo…"

"Found it in the trash!"

Jarv jogged up behind them, singing loudly, "Got an ancient Egyptian Sarcophagus…"

"Found it in the trash!"

Andrew stopped short at the top of the stairs, almost causing a 'Three Stooges' moment when the others crashed into his back and nearly fell down the stairs. Alex stepped forward and introduced herself.

"I'm Detective Eames, this is my partner, Detective Goren…"

"We don't talk to cops." Andrew stated, staring the officers down and blocking the stairway.

Summer wiggled around the massive steroid monster as she muttered, "Shut up, Andrew. I hate you." She pulled herself free of his bulk and smiled up at Bobby, "Hey, Bob-Robert!" then, with a cursory glance at his partner she added, "What's shakin' mange bacon?"

Goren swallowed hard as he realized she was still dressed as she had been when she left his apartment. He hoped Eames wouldn't recognize the shirt. "We'd like t-to talk to you and your friends…about Star."

"We DON'T talk to COPS!" Andrew repeated angrily.

Summer rolled her eyes and shouted, "Jarv!"

A set of keys flew over Andrew's head from somewhere behind him and clattered to a stop just behind her. She bent down to pick them up, giving Bobby the briefest glimpse of lace panties. Before his heart stopped completely, he turned his attention to Kai. The young man was yelling at the drummer.

"You fucking idiot! They're trying to find out who killed Star! We're talking to them, so shut the fuck up!"

"Come in, detectives." Summer said sweetly, standing with the door open.

Andrew shoved past them and stomped into the apartment. It was hard to miss the murderous look the young woman gave him as he passed her.

"Thank you." Alex acknowledged her as she entered the younger woman's home.

Summer smiled at Goren and ushered them inside. Eames was surprised by the cleanliness of the two-bedroom flat. The furnishings were obviously second-hand and the shelves and coffee table made from old lumber and concrete blocks, but the place looked clean and generally tidy. Jarv, Kai, and Summer placed their gear in what must have been intended to be a dining area, but was instead stacked with dozens of worn black instrument cases.

"Have a seat." Kai offered genially, indicating the small space that passed for their living room.

There were two large windows, draped with a Union Jack and an American Flag for curtains, above a comfortable window seat; a long, rust-colored sofa, and a pair of mismatched wingchairs, one in shabby green velvet and the other in a blue and gold plaid.

"Wait!...Not there…" Summer cut in as Alex started to lower herself to the sofa. "Try the chairs."

Noting the detective's look of confusion, Jarv added, "The couch kinda smells…Andrew 'found it in the trash.'"

Andrew stomped past the detectives and flopped onto the window seat with his arms folded across his chest, pouting. Kai, Summer and Jarv filled the sofa and Johnny sat on the floor beside them.

For a moment the only sound was the whir of the window air conditioner and the slight fluttering of our nation's flag in its breeze. Summer gave Bobby an amorous look but stopped quickly when his posture stiffened and he coughed as he tore his gaze away.

Goren leaned on the bar that separated the tiny kitchen from the living room and forced his eyes wander, taking it all in as his partner began the interview. There she was, the whirlwind that so effortlessly turned him upside down, sitting on the sofa across from him with her head down and her delicate hand caressing the nape of her neck in a vain attempt to hide that beautiful, knowing smirk.

"So, you all…" Alex began.

Andrew let out a loud sigh. Eames cut him with a sharp glance and continued, "You all knew Star Morgan, correct?"

The drummer snorted and shifted in the window seat. Jarv leaned forward on the far end of the sofa and addressed the situation, "What the fuck, Andrew? You need some cream for your vagina? Stop sulking and do something to help somebody else for once in your life!" he turned his attention to the detective in the chair across from him and replied, "Yes. We knew her."

"You were married?" she asked, looking at Kai with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah, for seven years. We got married right after high school. Both of us had parents that sucked. We were better off together, you know?" He answered as he scratched at the stubble on his shaved head, "We got divorced three years ago."

Andrew laughed and added, "She switched teams…"

"You'd understand about that, wouldn't you?" Jarv quipped and, when the big man tried to retort, punctuated the sentiment with, "Shut up, Faggot."

"She's still my best friend." Kai continued sadly. "This was our apartment."

"Were you aware that she suffered from Kleptomania?" Goren queried while touching the ashtray, photos, and all the other small items lined up on the bar.

The younger man nodded from his perch on the sofa. "Yeah, but it was never a big deal. Just little stuff, you know?"

Everyone silently agreed and Summer furthered the explanation, "When Jarv and I first moved to the city we were living in the van. Then we met Kai and Star, formed our first band and moved in here with them. It was great. Sure, stuff would disappear all the time…Pencils, bobby pins, toothbrushes…Every Sunday, when she'd go to brunch with her Mom, Kai would bring a bunch of pizza boxes out of their bedroom and dump them on the table. We'd just pick out our stuff and put it back."

"Right." Kai said, "Whatever was left, I'd try to figure out where she got it and take it back, or pay for it… I mean, it was mostly worthless junk, nobody ever got mad."

Bobby tilted his head and looked at him earnestly, "You cared for her…tried to keep her out of trouble."

"Of course."

"Did you ever seek psychiatric help?" he prodded gently.

"You needed to." Andrew put in abruptly, "Should've taken her straight to Bellevue. She's was crazy…taking everybody's shit…totally whacked…Yeah, cause…yeah, cause, yeah…"

Kai Hamlett leapt to his feet, his entire bald head crimson with rage, "You fucking fat bitch! I'll kick you in your cunt! You've been with the band, what? Six months? You didn't really know her…You don't get to talk about Star…EVER! Get lost! Take a hike! You shouldn't even be here for this…"

"FINE!" the drummer shouted, stamped past them and disappeared around the corner into the hall. A door slammed and Summer jumped to her feet.

"Oh, no you don't!" she yelled as she clambered over her brother and rounded the same corner.

Bobby looked at a picture hanging on the wall next to him while they all listened to the sounds of pounding and screaming that echoed throughout the apartment from the tiny hallway.

"Get out of my room!...I'm serious Andrew…Unlock this door!"

The picture was a piece of needlepoint that read, 'Live Free, Love Well, Laugh Often' Goren touched its surface, it had an unusual texture. 'Maybe hemp.' He thought and took it off the wall to examine it more closely.

"STOP TOUCHING MY STUFF!!"

Summer's shriek almost caused him to drop the small artwork, then he realized she was still shouting at her bedroom door.

"You'd better not be beating off in there!...Let me in, you bastard!...I swear to God, Andrew…"

Bobby gently replaced the picture on its hook and pointed toward the hallway, "Should I…?" he asked the remaining band members.

"Nah," Johnny replied, "They do this all the time."

"Yeah," Jarv added, unconcernedly, "He goes in there, messes with all her crap, and whacks off on her pillow…She hates him."

"I don't blame her." Eames muttered.

"I'll kick your fucking ass down all five fucking flights of stairs!...Do you hear me, you son of a bitch?...Kai, get the bat!"

"Summer!" Kai screamed, "Shut up! This is not finding out who took Star from us!"

Summer reappeared looking very apologetic, "Oh, God…Kai, I'm sorry…" she said softly as she went to her friend and hugged him, "Andrew just pisses me off so much."

"I know." He patted her back reassuringly, "If he wasn't such a great drummer…"

"And if he didn't owe me five hundred bucks…" Jarv put in.

"He owes you money?" Summer turned to her brother, getting angry again, "I loaned him four hundred two weeks ago…"

Goren watched with interest and the memory of her rapid change of emotion during his interview resurfaced. 'Not bipolar,' he thought, 'passionate.' It took a Herculean effort for him to suppress the grin that tried to surface.

"Really?" Johnny asked, surprised, "I gave him two hundred yesterday…"

"Yeah, yeah," Kai said dismissively, "Andrew's a dick-smack and he owes everybody money."

He sat back down on the sofa and looked up at his friends, almost pleading, "Can we please get back to Star?" his fingers absently traced the solid black five point star tattoo on his chest, just above his heart. "I want to know who did this." He shifted his gaze to Goren, "And if possible, my Louisville Slugger and I would like a few moments alone with the prick."

Alex decided to ignore the comment and use the precious moments of relative calm to continue the interview, "We understand that Star may have had a girlfriend…Did any of you ever meet her?"

"No," Kai replied, "She never brought her girlfriends over until they'd been together a while. She liked outsiders, you know, normal chicks. She thought we'd scare 'em off if she didn't get them used to the idea first."

"Well…" Johnny spoke up timidly.

"You met her girlfriend?" Eames encouraged the young man.

"Not exactly…"he said, "I saw Star walking with a woman in midtown. I said Hi, but Star acted like she didn't know me."

"When was this?" Bobby asked.

"About two or three weeks ago."

"Can you describe the woman?"

Johnny scrunched up his face in concentration, "Taller than Star…maybe 5' 6"…Blond…Not all that pretty…Kinda boring looking…They were holding hands."

"How was she dressed?" Alex prompted.

"Classy…a suit like the ones my mom wears to work. She's a secretary…My mom, I mean…"

At that moment the front door burst open and a rotund red haired man in his fifties entered carrying a toolbox and not wearing a shirt. Eames had to turn away. He was the palest and hairiest fat man she'd ever seen.

"Hey Chuy." Jarv greeted the newcomer, "What are you doing here?"

"You said your sink was broken." He replied, walking toward the kitchen.

"I thought you were gonna do that this morning." Jarv responded.

"Couldn't. I had to get the cops over here to evict those losers in 3C." the man, who was obviously the building super, answered, "Then; Mrs. Kroft's grandson flushed a sweater. Damn toilet was flooding all over…dripped clear through to the second floor."

"Well, could you at least put on a shirt? Nobody wants to see that…" the tenant grinned at him.

"Ha-ha, kid." Chuy said as he dug in his toolbox for a wrench. "Good thing you're my favorite tenants."

"We pay our rent on time." Summer stated.

"That's all it takes, doll-face." He grinned at her before he sank below the level of the counter.

"Seriously, Mr. Meara" Jarv prodded good naturedly, "If Ron Jeremy and Chewbacca had a kid…"

Alex coughed to stifle her laughter and quickly regained her composure, "I think that's all we need for now. If you can think of anything else that might help us…"

"We'll call." Summer said with a smile and rose to show them to the door.

As they left the apartment, Bobby turned back briefly and whispered, "Thank you, Summer. For helping and for…um…not s-saying anything a-about…"

"Not a problem." She whispered back with a smile and a wink. The door closed and, just for a moment, Bobby heard that strange tune he couldn't quite recall humming through his brain.

He shook it off and joined his partner on the stairs.

"What a circus." She observed.

Goren chuckled and said, "They're an interesting group…"


	6. Chapter 6

As soon as the detectives were gone, the band swung into action; changing clothes and loading equipment into their van.

"I thought we were going to rehearse before we left." Johnny said as he helped Jarv carry their amps downstairs.

"No time." His friend replied, "Not if were going to make it to Stelton in time to set up and still have dinner with Mom and Dad before the gig."

They returned to the apartment just as Kai emerged from the hall, still damp from his shower and wearing camouflage cut-offs with a pair of Converse high tops. "You're up." He said to Jarv, "Andrew's changing in our room."

"Okay." He started down the hall to the bathroom just in time to hear his sister's voice resound from behind her bedroom door.

"God damn it, Andrew!" The door opened and a pillow flew out, nearly hitting Jarv as he passed.

He knocked on the door directly across the hall from his sister's room. "Andrew, Summer's pissed and I'm getting in the shower. So, hurry up."

Kai and Johnny continued shuttling cases from the apartment to the van.

"You need to change, man?" Kai asked.

"Nah, I'm just going to wear what I've got on. Will we have time to drop by my mom's and pick up my bag?"

"We'll make time." The bassist answered as they started down the stairs.

"What about my hair?" Johnny continued.

"I've got the glue in my pocket. We'll do it on the way."

Summer opened her door just as Andrew stepped out of her brother's room, "You're washing that when we get back." She said, pointing at the pillow lying in the middle of the little hallway.

"Whatever." He shrugged as he slung his duffle bag over his shoulder.

"Not whatever." She replied hotly, "You are washing it, Princess."

"It's a kilt." He glared at her.

Summer sat on the edge of the coffee table and put on her motorcycle boots, "I'm just glad you didn't wear that last night. I hate it when I go somewhere and some bitch is wearing the same outfit." She slid her backpack onto her shoulders and picked up the last guitar case.

Andrew walked out and slammed the door in her face as she tried to follow him.

"Son of a…" she muttered and called to her brother, "Jarv! Get the lead out…We're ready to go!" At the last second she remembered Kai's pet snake. She went back for the cage and took him down to Mrs. Kroft so that she could take care of him.

On the street, Kai, Johnny, and Andrew secured the load and played a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors to determine who would drive.

"HEY!" they heard from above and looked up. Jarv was standing on the fire escape dripping wet and wearing nothing but a pair of flip-flops. "Don't leave! I'm almost ready! Just give me five minutes!"

Soon they were on the road with Andrew at the wheel hitting every pothole he could find.

"God damn it, Andrew!" Kai yelled from the rear of the van after a particularly jarring bump, "Knock it off! I'm working with Superglue back here!"

"He can't help it." Jarv said from the front passenger seat, "It's hard to drive in high heels, but you have to have the perfect shoes to match the dress and the purse to match the shoes. Then there's the problem of finding the perfect ponytail holder to complete the outfit…So, stop hassling him. It isn't easy being an ugly woman."

Andrew gripped the steering wheel tightly and screamed, "Shut up! It is not a skirt or a dress, it is a KILT! There's nothing wrong with wanting to show my Scottish heritage!"

Jarv moved his arms and legs as if he were trying to dance a highland fling in the confined space, "Well, Hi-Dee-Diddly-Doh!" he said in sing-song voice, "I feel a tad bit Scottish today!...

Summer laughed and patted the driver on the shoulder, "I know McKown is a Scottish name, sweetie, but you do remember that you're adopted, right? You're not Scottish…"

His only response was to pull the van to the side of the road, turn off the engine and fold his arms across his chest. Immediately, his band mates started shouting at him.

"Jesus!"

"What the…?"

"We have a gig tonight, moron!"

Jarv shoved his shoulder hard, "If you're going to pout, get in the back. We don't have time for this."

They performed a classic "Chinese fire drill" without the benefit of a red light and Jarv muttered as he pulled the vehicle back into traffic, "What a giant wussy…learn to take a joke."

Back at One Police Plaza, Goren and Eames made arrangements with the manager of Macy's department store to interview female employees fitting the description Johnny Newsom had given. As she hung up the phone Alex shook her head and muttered, "A well-dressed, average height, blond working at Macy's…This ought to be as easy as finding a needle in a needle-stack."


	7. Chapter 7

Saturday morning found the members of Succubus Blush sprawled on the living room floor of Ed and Anita Davis' Stelton, New Jersey home. Anita was a lovely woman, petite and curvy. The only outward clue to her sixty years of age was the proliferation of silver streaks glinting in her flowing chestnut hair. She moved about her modest kitchen, humming softly while she mixed up a batch of buckwheat pancakes for her children and their friends. She loved it when their band played in Stelton, which they did once a month. She and her husband had raised their children to be free thinkers and to express themselves through art. Jerry and Summer had grown up to do just that and their parents couldn't have been prouder.

Ed Davis was a tall, lean man in his early sixties with long straight hair that was thinning on top. An aging hippie and staunch anti-establishmentarian, full of conspiracy theories, he was proprietor of the town's longest running health food store, Davis Organics. He had just showered, shaved, and combed his hair back into a ponytail. He finished dressing in the bedroom he'd shared with the love of his life for the past forty years and began the daily ritual of searching for his keys. Years of premium weed and the acid he'd ingested in his youth had taken their toll. He checked his pockets, the dresser top, and the bathroom vanity with no success.

"Nita!" he yelled, "I've lost my keys again!"

Anita stopped cooking and hurried from the kitchen toward the back of the house.

"Nita!"

"Shhhh." She said softly as she appeared in the doorway, "You'll wake the kids…did you check the pants you were wearing yesterday?"

"Yes," he replied at a somewhat lower volume, "if I'm going to close at noon and have a chance to spend some time with the kids, I've got to get in to the store early this morning."

In the living room, band members began to stir. Jarv sat up from the floor in front of the sofa and scratched his head. Kai stretched in the old gold recliner and belched. Andrew rolled over on the couch and farted, just inches from Jarv's head.

"God damn it Andrew!" he admonished as he smacked the drummer in the head, "What did you eat at that diner last night?"

Andrew sat up and rubbed his eyes as he mumbled, "They had Scottish bread…mmmm, Scottish bread makes me happy…"he leaned to one side and launched another air biscuit in Kai's direction.

"Oh, dude!" the bassist fanned his face hoping to generate some fresh air, "Scottish bread? What the hell is that? There's no such thing…"

Johnny opened his eyes and stared blankly from the matching recliner next to the one Kai had slept in. Summer curled up tighter on the loveseat and put a pillow over her head.

Andrew stood up to stretch, "Sure there is…" he began, letting a particularly foul bit of flatulence escape directly in Jarv's face.

Jarv looked up at him and spat, "Well, Hi-Dee-Diddly-Fuck-YOU!"

Summer threw her pillow at them and dug in the couch cushion by her head. She pulled out a set of keys, sat up, rubbed her cheek where the object had been poking her and shouted, "Dad! Keys!"

Her parents entered the living room. Ed took the keys from his daughter and planted a kiss on top of her head. "Thanks honey."

"No problem" she replied groggily, "Hey Dad, I forgot to ask yesterday, did you get any more of that gum in at the store?"

"Oh, yeah," he patted his pockets and looked puzzled, "I knew you'd want it, so I brought some home…Where did I put it?"

Anita retrieved two packages of organic blueberry flavor Glee Gum™ from a side table and handed them to Summer. "Here they are, dear…I'm making pancakes, they'll be ready soon, anyone hungry?"

"Can't." Ed said giving his wife a peck on the cheek, "I have to go take care of Stelton's health food needs…" and hurried out the door amid a hail of goodbyes.

"Well?" Anita asked, surveying the young people in her living room.

"We're not hungry, Mom." Jarv answered.

"Nonsense." She said, "You could all use a healthy meal…And, no," she looked straight at Kai with a half smile, "whiskey does not count as a whole grain food."

Summer joined her mother in the kitchen and chatted with her while she cooked. Then, while the guys were scarfing down pancakes and retiring bloated to various beds and sofas, she went out to the garden and helped her mother weed, water, and harvest.

Anita picked a few choice tomatoes. "So, what's his name?" she asked her daughter.

"What?" Summer tried not to smile as she looked up at her from the lettuces.

"Don't be coy." Her mother answered, "You've got a young man. I can see it in your eyes."

"Bobby." One word but, when she said it, it sounded like a symphony.

"Is he nice?" Anita didn't like to pry, but as a mother, she just couldn't help herself.

"He's very nice." Her daughter stated simply.

"Have you?" she didn't have to finish the question. The Davis' were very open about human sexuality.

Summer giggled, "Yes."

"And?"

Her green eyes danced as they looked into their source, "Fan-freakin'-tastic."

The older woman smiled, "So you think this one might be around for awhile…"

"I hope so." She replied, turning her attention back to the lettuce.

"What does he do?"

Summer took a deep breath and didn't look up, "He's a cop."

Anita eyed her daughter for a moment before returning to the task of filling her basket with tomatoes, "Well, we won't tell your father."


	8. Chapter 8

Detectives Robert Goren and Alexandra Eames spent all day Saturday and half of Monday interviewing employees of Macy's department store with no success. They were tired, bored, hungry and feeling hopeless.

Bobby's cell phone clamored for attention from his pocket. He welcomed the excuse to walk away from the parade of futility that passed through the break room they were using to conduct their interviews.

"Goren." He announced into the device.

"Ross here. How's it coming?" his captain asked.

"Slow." Bobby replied, "No hits yet. We still have about twenty more women to talk to."

"Keep at it." He instructed, "The labs came back on the gum you found at the crime scene."

Bobby perked up at that, "Anything?"

"It's organic. Expensive as far as candy goes…You can get it at any health food store. The saliva gave them a great DNA sample…Female, not the victim's…Find the girlfriend and I'm betting we'll find the killer."

Goren hung up and reentered the break room smiling.

"Who's next?" he asked.

Eames checked the list of employees the manager had given them, "Valerie Lynch."

Miss Lynch entered the room timidly. Her pale features, large brown eyes, and nervous disposition gave them the impression that they were looking at a frightened rabbit in a dark blue power suit.

"You wanted to see me?" she asked softly.

"You're Valerie Lynch?" Eames queried.

"Yes." She nodded.

"Have a seat." Alex indicated the chair across the table from her. "I'm sure you've heard what this is all about by now."

"You want us to identify someone."

"Right." The detective smiled warmly, "We're working on a case and are hoping someone in the store has seen this woman." She moved the photograph closer to the lady and continued, "Do you recognize her?"

Valerie's eyes barely grazed the picture, "No." she said quickly and stood up to leave.

Goren moved in swiftly blocking her path; he leaned down, craning his neck to bring his eyes to her level and asked "Are you sure?" he reached out to take the photo from Eames and hold it in front of Miss Lynch, "Because you didn't really look…"

"Um…" she bit her lower lip, "I don't know."

"You don't know?" he asked and pulled the picture of Star's corpse from the coroner's file, "How about now?"

"Oh…oh my god…" Though the detectives would not have thought it possible, Valerie's face went even paler.

"She's your girlfriend." It was a statement, softly spoken and unarguable.

She nodded mutely and Bobby, with the instincts of a cobra whose prey is safely hypnotized, moved in for the kill. "That's a lovely necklace you're wearing. Interesting design, where did you get it?"

"What?..." she fingered the flat gold charm covered in Egyptian hieroglyphics "um…uh…someone gave it to me…"

Eames quickly searched through her files and found what her partner was hoping for before their suspect finished her lie. "Really?" she smirked, "Because it matches the description of one stolen from a jewelry store in the area just last month."

Goren put an arm around the woman and said conspiratorially, "You're going to need to come downtown with us."

"No, I can't…I" the scared white rabbit looked ready to bolt.

"Valerie Lynch, you're under arrest for possession of stolen property. You have the right to remain silent…" Eames cuffed the suspect and they began walking her out as she Mirandized her.

As soon as Alex finished reading her rights, Valerie said, "I want a lawyer."

Eames drove the SUV back to One Police Plaza in silence while her partner stared at his notebook and their suspect sniveled in the back seat. Bobby tried to focus on his notes, but his mind kept shouting, 'We got her! Case closed. Summer's going to be so happy.'

The part of him that never stopped being Detective Robert O. Goren tried to be the voice of reason, reminding him that the case was not closed. Not until they could prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that Miss Lynch had murdered Star Morgan. Summer was still a witness in an open case and that was why he could not claim her.

Yet there was a primitive part of him that raved at him to make her his own in every way; heart, mind, body, and soul. That primordial instinct told him that she was his woman and he must make sure she knew it, too.

The battle raged inside his head. Want duking it out with Reason for the World Championship and he wasn't sure who he wanted to win. He had always been proud of his iron self-discipline and it had never failed him. He couldn't allow it to now.

'I am not a fucking caveman!' Reason screamed and, for the moment, Want was quieted.

Bobby still felt guilty for giving in to his needs the other night, no matter how impaired his judgment might have been, but the urge to reciprocate and give Summer some physical pleasure was becoming too great.

Back at MCS, he stepped into the interrogation room and back into the role of Detective Robert O. Goren. Miss Lynch sat waiting for her attorney, looking terrified and miserable. He took a seat across from her and began attempting idle chit-chat hoping he could gather some nugget of information that would solidify their hold on the suspect.

"Are you all right? Would you like some coffee? Soda?" he sounded like the perfect host entertaining in his home.

"No." Valerie whispered as she shook her head, "thanks."

"You have a hard time talking about your relationship." He spoke sympathetically, "You haven't come out of the closet."

It wasn't a question, but she answered anyway, "Not at work…"

"Your family?...Friends?" he asked softly.

"Yeah."

He reached across the table and placed a hand over hers, "Your parents don't approve?"

Valerie yanked her hand away and glared, "My father's dead and my mother is fine with it."

"She's supportive." He nodded, keeping his voice even and quiet, "You're close."

"Of course we're close!" she spat, "If we weren't I wouldn't drive all the way to Peekskill every two weeks to see her!"

The door burst open and an angry, tired looking public defender limped in on high heels and rebuked Goren, "You know you aren't supposed to talk to her…I'd like a moment alone with my client."

Bobby swung out of his chair without a word and walked directly into the next room where Eames and Ross stood watching. "We need to check the pawn shops." He said.

Ross knit his brows and responded, "We've checked every pawn broker in the five boroughs and turned up empty."

"Not here." Goren answered, "Peekskill. You heard her. She visits her mother every two weeks."

"I'll call Peekskill PD." Eames said already walking toward the door.

"Have them get a warrant for the mother's house, too." The captain called after her and turned his attention to Goren, "This could take a day or two." Ross advised, "We aren't going to be able to hold her without the jewels. Her attorney will argue that Miss Morgan gave her client the necklace as a gift and she had no idea it was stolen."

As if the captain had donned a turban and looked into a crystal ball, his words came to pass. By evening, Valerie Lynch had been home for several hours and Goren and Eames were just finishing up yet another mountain of paperwork. Alex yawned and put the last file on top of the stack in her out box.

"I'm going home." She said wearily, "We won't hear from Peekskill till morning, anyway"

"Me too." Bobby replied, stacking his own remaining files neatly on the corner of his desk, "See you tomorrow."


	9. Chapter 9

Bobby leaned tiredly against the wall of the elevator as he waited for it to arrive at his floor. The bell rang, the doors slid open, and he walked around the corner. There she was, sitting on the floor and leaning against his door.

Her hair was piled on her head in a messy bun and varied in shades of red from very cherry to deep burgundy. Her head was slightly tilted in thought as she worked the crossword puzzle in his copy of the New York Times. A pale blue bubble appeared between ruby red lips and disappeared just as quickly when she shifted her leg to support the paper and leaned forward to write an answer.

"Hi." He said as he approached her.

Summer looked up and smiled brightly, "Hey, there you are." She accepted the offer of his hand and let him help her to her feet, "Took you long enough. Is Gotham safe for another day?"

Bobby chuckled and looked at his feet, "Y-yes." He peeked at her from the corner of his eye with a shy smile, "Um…what are you doing here?"

"I brought your shirt back." She replied, pointing to her ever present guitar case leaning next to his door.

"Oh…uh…okay…good" he nodded, "Th-thanks."

Her eyes sparkled with amusement at his shyness, "So, are you going to ask me in or are we going to stand here in the hall all night?"

"I-I can't." he said softly.

"Can't…or won't?" Summer challenged, still smiling.

Bobby sighed and looked at her, almost painfully, "Can't…y-you know why…we've…um…already talked about this."

"So we can't sit and talk? I never said I wanted to do anything more than that…"she teased.

He studied the floor and shuffled his feet. How a man over six feet tall could look so small and helpless was beyond Summer's understanding. She wanted to hold him and kiss his forehead and tell him everything would be alright.

"I do." He spoke so softly that his words were barely audible.

Summer did what she always did when she wasn't sure what to do; she made a joke. "Right here in the hallway?!? Wow, not my usual thing…but okay…You're more adventurous than I thought."

"Summer!" he looked stricken at the thought.

She giggled and stepped forward, twining her arms around his waist and laying her chin flat against his chest so that she could look up, up, up into those beautiful chocolate brown eyes. "It's okay." She soothed, "I'm kidding…So, once you've found Star's killer, maybe you'd be interested?"

"I-I'm interested now…" he whispered.

She hugged him tighter, feeling his hardness through their clothing, "I can tell…" she smirked. "But you want to do the right thing…I get it…You know, patience has never been my strongest virtue, but for you, I'll wait."

"Thank you." He breathed.

Summer released him and grabbed her guitar case, "I'll see you around." She said as she started back down the hall toward the elevator, "Get to work, Detective." At the corner she stopped and looked back at him, "I mean it…Hurry up."

Bobby smiled as she disappeared from view. He heard the 'ding' of the elevator and the metallic rattle of its doors opening. "Wait!" he called after her… "My shirt…" but it was too late. She was gone.

He picked up the newspaper that his whirlwind had dropped near the door and went inside. He mechanically performed his evening routine, changing clothes and putting things away. Summer would not leave his mind.

Instead of climbing onto his treadmill, he sat down on the couch and breathed deeply. The scent of her was still in his nostrils, clean and sharp like freshly mowed grass with the barest hint of musk underneath. The arousal he felt in the hallway refused to dissipate and instead became an ever more insistent erection.

He lay his head back and closed his eyes as images of Summer; naked, beautiful, free, and laughing; danced through his brain. Almost without conscious thought, his hand traveled beneath the waistband of his clothing. Memories and imaginings swirled through his mind on a wind that hummed a now familiar and maddeningly untitled tune. Kisses, caresses, they way she seemed to fit so perfectly in his arms, sitting on his lap here on this very sofa as he stumbled and stuttered through asking her to love him. The smile on her lips, the answer in her eyes.

Had he really used those words, 'Love me?'…had he meant only physically?...Or had he been asking for more? For that which had forsaken him in his dysfunctional childhood and in the girlfriends who never understood and, in the end, always left? Had she taken his request to heart?

His fingers stilled for a moment on his cock at the recollection. He'd barely been able to contain the joy he'd experienced when she'd welcomed his advances. As he'd entered her lovely body, his heart had been soaring. He'd hidden it scrupulously, had even tried to hide it from himself. It was heart-wrenching, but necessary. Love and law enforcement was a difficult mix. For Bobby Goren, it was more difficult than most.

But here, alone in his apartment where wishes could take on a reality of sorts, he allowed himself what he denied in the outside world. Here in his imagination, his naked adorable Goddess sank to her knees before him and took his heavy flesh between her sweet ruby lips. Here, it was okay to give in to his every whim. To grasp her head, fingers twining themselves into her sensuous exotic hair as he thrust with abandon into the warmth and wetness of her mouth. Here, it was okay to fuck that beautiful mouth, to possess that loving, accommodating deity and empty his load right down her throat.

His voice was a ragged, falling cry of longing as his phantom Goddess let her lips and tongue glide smoothly back and forth along his engorged penis. His heart skipped a beat as he imagined…remembered...her gentle yet exhilarating touch on his flesh and the way she had unerringly targeted the sweetest and most sensitive spots. Humming. She was humming that strange tune and, suddenly, the title no longer mattered.

"Summer," he cried out, the single word was a sound of worship, of desperation and of resignation as his mind and body exploded in orgasm.


	10. Chapter 10

Gathering evidence against Valerie Lynch was more difficult than the detectives could have possibly imagined. Her mother had no house for them to search; she was an Alzheimer's patient in a Peekskill nursing home. The city's pawn shops turned up bits and pieces, but Valerie had used an alias. Fortunately, many of the pawn brokers were able to identify her from her photo and, eventually, they did find enough of the stolen jewelry to make a felony case against her. It took two weeks.

In the meantime, Valerie made a run for it. She was found living with a group of women in a charity home in Philadelphia. It hadn't been easy bringing her in. That scared white rabbit from the Macy's break room turned into a wildcat when she was cornered. Detective Goren sustained some nasty scratches on his neck and hands when he made a grab for her.

To top it all off, the Morgans had been calling Captain Ross incessantly, asking when someone would be brought to justice for murdering their daughter. He soothed them as best he could without giving out any real information, but somebody squawked. When Goren and Eames arrived with their prisoner, Mr. and Mrs. Morgan stood at the doorway of One Police Plaza with a gaggle of reporters and news cameras.

Ever professional, the detectives made no comment as Eames helped the handcuffed Ms. Lynch from the backseat of the SUV and Bobby covered her with his jacket. Together they hustled their prisoner past the throng as quickly as possible.

They had her as an accessory to the robberies without a doubt, but they still could not find on shred of evidence to link her to the murder of Esther Morgan. Goren couldn't understand it. He went over everything they knew time and again. Star was close to getting caught, she could have implicated Valerie. It was a perfect motive. Valerie Lynch had proven just this morning that she was capable of violence. Why couldn't he prove it? Bobby felt like he was pounding his head against a brick wall.

Succubus Blush trooped down from the rooftop and entered the St. Mark's Place apartment after a successful practice session. Jarv went to the kitchen for a drink. Johnny, Kai, and Summer put away their instruments. Andrew flopped on the couch and grabbed the remote.

"Turn on MTV." Johnny said as they joined the drummer in the small living area.

"Wait!" Kai shouted, pointing at the television, "That's Star's mom."

They watched in silence as the evening news ran the footage from that afternoon. The reporter babbled on about the murder of Esther Morgan while Mrs. Morgan raved in the background about justice for her daughter. The scrolling lines at the bottom of the screen read, 'Friend of murder victim arrested.' The band jumped and cheered and hugged one another.

"I feel like we should open a bottle of champagne," Kai said, "but all we've got is cheap beer."

Summer walked toward the bedrooms and her brother asked, "Hey, where are you going?"

"To shower and change." She replied, "I don't want to go out after sweating on the roof for three hours."

"Yeah!" Kai laughed, "I bet Maurice would comp us some champagne…Even if it is that cheap crap he serves on New Year's Eve."

When Summer emerged from the bathroom a short time later, Kai was already forming a line at the door.

"I'm next!" he said exuberantly, shoving his way in before she was completely out the door.

Summer laughed and put her makeup bag into her backpack as she headed for the front door.

"Great idea, Summer." Her brother grinned.

"What's that?" she asked absently.

"Going to Maurice's."

"Oh." She nodded, "You guys go ahead…"

Jarv looked puzzled, "Where are you going?"

"Out." She stated simply as she walked out the door, "I'll catch you later."

When Bobby arrived home, he found his door slightly ajar. He drew his gun and entered cautiously. The light was on in the living room. He peeked around the corner from the tiny foyer and saw Summer, sitting on his sofa and reading a book.

He holstered his weapon and sighed, "Summer…What are you doing here?"

She looked up at him and smiled, "You said I could bring your shirt back whenever I wanted…"

"How did you get in?" he demanded quietly.

Summer pulled a hairpin from her upswept 'do and tossed it onto the coffee table. Bobby stared at it for a moment and said, "That's breaking and entering."

"I didn't break anything." She replied with a smirk and, when a stern look was his only response, she rolled her eyes and laughed. "Arrest me," she said and returned to her reading.

He reached into the pouch on his belt and withdrew his handcuffs. He held them up, dangling them from his forefinger.

Summer glanced up at the jingling sound and grinned, "Ooo, are we going to play 'bad cop' then?" she teased.

Bobby's shoulders slumped in defeat and he dropped the cuffs on the table as he tried desperately to suppress a smile. She dropped her gaze back to the book. He took off his jacket and tie and laid them neatly next to him as he took a seat on the coffee table directly in front of her.

"You changed your hair again." He said.

"Uh-huh." She murmured, still reading.

"Green." He stated, "I like it…It matches your eyes…W-what are you reading?"

"The Mozart Project. Did you know his first performance was played for the Elector of Bavaria when he was only six years old?"

"Yeah." He nodded as he gently took the book from her and placed it on top of his jacket, "Yes I did…You, um, shouldn't be here."

"Why not?" she asked, "You arrested Star's girlfriend, didn't you?"

"Yes, but…"

"Well, she did it didn't she?" she pressed him.

"We're pretty sure." He nodded.

Summer laughed, "So, what's wrong now? Did you decide you're not interested?"

His little whirlwind was threatening to become a force ten hurricane. Her gentle laughter, her sparkling eyes, that coy smile…No matter how wrong it might be; it felt so right. By her very presence she filled him with happiness, confusion, and an un-ignorable craving for sex...

He kissed her.

He lifted her to her feet and swept her into his arms with a romantic flourish, and pressed his sensuous mouth down upon hers. She expected him to go all ravishing and dive in immediately with his tongue, but strangely, his lips just rested lightly against hers. A move she found all the more intoxicating for the delicacy of the pressure rather than brute, demanding force.

Acting purely on instinct, she coiled her arms around him. She couldn't believe it was happening and he couldn't believe what he was doing. Ever impatient, Summer took the initiative and pressed her tongue against his lips, demanding entrance.

He laughed, the sound deep and rough in his chest, and let her in. A second later, it was as if someone threw a switch and he took total control.

'I have to ask him…I need to know how he feels…' As she backed away and attempted to voice her thoughts, Bobby shushed her and gently but firmly placed a hand over her mouth.

For a moment, he seemed fierce, almost like a caveman forbidding his woman to speak. Then his hand was gone, only to be replaced by his mouth. He kissed her savagely, his tongue darting into her mouth as if he wanted to stab to death any words that might come between them.

'Oh, Bobby…I think I love you…Do you feel the same?'

Her mind's cry remained unuttered as she thrilled to the animal force of his kiss. She felt as if he were devouring her as his tongue explored and possessed her. As he kissed ferociously, his hand slid between her legs, pulling her panties aside and taking possession there too. He caressed her rousingly, rubbing quite hard; eventually discarding the undergarment that so hindered his ministrations and forcing her legs wider so he could gain better access.

When he took her clit between his finger and thumb, she groaned, despite his request for silence. When he pushed a finger inside her at the same time, his name rushed from her lips on shuddering breath.

Her pelvis lurched in a wild bucking motion, but he never missed a beat. She grabbed onto him to stop herself from falling as her body imploded in a decadent spike of pleasure.

He didn't stop there. He worked her to not one climax, not two, but three, while she clung to him. She completely ignored his desire for silence now, unable to prevent herself from making ever louder moaning, panting and whimpering sounds.

Just when she was convinced she was going to fall to the floor in a puddle, he ceased his manipulations and moved her gently to the floor. She was like a rag doll, limp from her earth-shattering orgasms, and went wherever he wished as he set her on her hands and knees and nudged apart her thighs.

As he stood to remove his clothes, he looked down at the half-naked girl on the floor, her skirt flipped up exposing the smooth curve of her buttocks, and he had never wanted to fuck more in his life.

Then he was inside her, his cock as dominating as his fingers had been. He powered into her with deep impassioned strokes. She rose to meet him, glorying in his loving ruthlessness and orgasming again quickly and violently. Sex had never been so hot. She rubbed feverishly at her clit as he thrust into her again and again.

Her mind was a windstorm of pure feeling, but at the edge of consciousness, she heard the desperation in Bobby's cry of release.

Was that true emotion he was expressing? Or simply the physical overwhelming him? Exhaustion overcame her before she was able to determine...

He lifted her from the floor and carried her to his bedroom, placing her gingerly on the bed. He crawled in beside her, burying his face in her hair and breathing in the scent of her.

They lay in silence. She couldn't speak. He just didn't, with his body satisfied his mind berated him for his animal behavior. Eventually she eased herself up, sat beside him, and laid a gentle hand on his back.

"Are you all right?" She stroked him as if he were skittish animal.

Bobby took a few deep breaths. 'Am I all right?' he thought, 'I could be all right. Or I could be all wrong. Sex. On the floor. With a witness. How horrible and sleazy and dangerous is that?'

Yet it felt perfectly natural at the time and somehow it didn't feel sleazy, even now. And it only felt dangerous in a good way.

'Y-yes, I'm fine. Thank you,' he murmured, sitting up and blushing like a teenager. "Are you…?"

"Never better." She smiled contentedly, easing his fear that he had hurt her.

He took her into his arms and caressed her face with what, Summer thought, felt like real affection. She sighed with satisfaction and laid her head on his chest as they reclined against the pillows and fell asleep.

The boys stumbled home from Maurice's Tavern around midnight. Johnny grabbed some beer from the fridge and suggested they play a video game. Jarv picked up a stack of XBOX games from the floor next to the sofa.

"What do you like?" he asked.

"Wrestlemania." Said Kai, "We can all play that one."

"I hate Wrestlemania." Andrew whined, "You guys always kick my ass."

Jarv chuckled, "Kinda like real life."

The drummer folded his arms across his chest and pouted, "Asshole." He muttered.

Kai didn't feel like fighting so he stopped them by jumping up from his chair and announcing, "I'm hungry. Let's go get waffles."

"Yeah, that sounds good." Johnny agreed.

Jarv stood up and shrugged, "Let's go."

"I thought we were going to play video games." Andrew said.

"You play video games," Kai called over his shoulder as they headed for the door, "We're going for waffles."

"Fine!" Andrew shouted as the door slammed behind them and picked up the remote control.

His friends hadn't been gone more than twenty minutes when he heard the door open.

"What'd you forget?" he spat, then turned and realized it wasn't them, "What are you doing here?"

Calculating green eyes sized him up, "I need to get something." She said with a wry smile.

"Whatever." He said dismissively and went back to his game.

She went to the bedroom and changed into a stage outfit. She dug in her bag for her package of blueberry gum and popped a couple of the small squares into her mouth. She caught sight of the cum stained pillow at the head of the bed and made a disgusted face before she picked it up and carried it into the hall. She knelt down and placed it, almost lovingly, on the floor. Then she walked into the room her brother shared with that circus freak best friend of his. It took a few moments, but she didn't have too much trouble finding Kai's bat.

She was so tiny and light on her feet. Poor Andrew never saw it coming.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Summer stood in Bobby Goren's kitchen drinking deeply from a glass of water. When it was gone she refilled and drained it again. 'Over-exertion' she thought and giggled quietly to herself. She quietly rummaged around in the cabinets and finally found a garbage bag. She put her clothes inside, tied it shut and stuffed it into her backpack.

She was about to go back to bed when Bobby's pants, still in a wad on the living room floor, began ringing. It took a moment for her to find the cell phone in his left pocket.

"Bobby's pants." She announced professionally, "Sorry, he's not in them right now. May I take a message?"

There was a muffled sound of surprise and a woman's voice replied, "Uh…No…" and hung up.

Summer laughed at the tiny device and turned it off before fairly skipping to the bedroom and pouncing on the sleeping form of a big, strong, NYPD detective.

Bobby woke with a start to find Summer looking at him with a mischievous smile.

"Is it morning already?" he asked groggily.

"No." she whispered, "it's two o'clock in the morning."

"Oh," he yawned, "Why…"

"Seems like the perfect time to start round two." she said.

She kissed him.

Minutes went by as she worked his mouth with her lips, a burning promise of more to come. He halfheartedly protested her advances claiming old age and exhaustion until he felt her hand on his penis. She was taking a turn at being the bold and daring sexual conqueror, a situation she was far better equipped for handling than he. He took a deep breath. Her hand was feeling his length.

"Now is not the time to be tired" she breathed between kisses.

Then she rose to her knees next to him, admiring his body. Her fingers slid over his skin; the shape of his chest, the strong angle of his shoulders, that small hollow at the base of his throat. She couldn't help exploring it with her tongue.

He felt her tongue begin its investigation of his body, tracing a winding path down his chest, flicking lightly as she passed over each nipple, and continuing slowly down his abdomen until she reached the Promised Land. She leisurely licked his rapidly rising organ from top to bottom. It was then that she started to hum.

'What is that tune?' before he could ask the burning question she took him inside her mouth. His hands instantly grabbed the edge of the mattress. She was toying with him, making him harder than he thought possible.

Her mouth felt smooth and hot around him, the vibrations of her humming carrying him to impossible heights of pleasure. He groaned. Faster and faster she moved while her tongue firmly caressed the underside of his shaft, taking him ever higher. A few more strokes, licks, humming softly while taking all of him… and he was certain he would live his fantasy and cum right down her throat… She stopped, kissing her way back up his torso, just before he reached the point of no return.

She graced at him with a sunshine smile and kissed him delicately. He was definitely hungry now. They stayed there staring at each other as the steam of their own heat gathered around them. Her eyes were teasing, his patient and waiting. Her animal scent was floating into his nostrils and he wanted it as badly as she did.

"Don't close your eyes. I want you to see everything I'm going to do to you…" she purred.

She sat astride his waist and traced the tips of her index fingers down his cheeks, along his throat, and over his pecks until she reached his nipples. She rubbed little circles around them as she leaned forward and her pink tongue extended. He was watching her as the tip of her tongue pressed against his nipple, moving from side to side, and time stood still. Next he felt the brush of her fingernails on his nipples; it wasn't as soft and gentle as her tongue had been, but it excited him all the same.

Her fingers played little games on his skin that sent bolts of bliss through his body. She smiled and focused on the place just below his navel. She lightly covered it with kisses and began licking teasingly downward. Her mouth was so close to his erect penis that she could almost taste him. Just as he thought she would go lower she stopped and moved away from him.

He was almost desperate with desire and if she didn't do something about it soon he was going to burst into flames. To prove his condition, he pulled her close, pressing her body to him, licking her neck. Long, graceful, mischievous fingers teased her rock hard nipples as he joined in playing her deliciously torturous game. She pressed and moved herself against his member. Their bodies were hot and sweaty. A bonfire of passion had been ignited and both of them were steadily adding fuel to the flame.

"Please…"

His voice was so soft, pleading and surrendering that it made her lose herself in desire. She spread her legs wider as he guided himself inside her. She moved and he moved with her, begging her to go harder…faster. He placed his hands on her hips in an attempt to move her with him. Her hands clutched the headboard as her body moved to the beat of its own demands.

She tortured him, slowing down then speeding up in a nonsensical, erratic rhythm. His desire was building toward a peak that would rival Mount Everest and driving him to the brink of insanity. He was only able to fight the urge to grab her and force her into the rhythm that would give him the release he so desperately wished for because he knew she was torturing herself, too. Finally she moved steadily faster, pounding him ever closer to that blessed goal.

"Yes…Bobby… yeeeees!" she screamed into the night. For a moment pure pleasure dominated her body, sending waves of erotic satisfaction through her.

He penetrated her hard one more time, groaning her name as he erupted in ecstasy.

Her orgasm left her weak and she sprawled lifelessly on his chest. Her restless state had disappeared, as easily as it had arrived. She was happy, satisfied, and not a bit sorry to have awakened him. She could feel his curious eyes concentrating on her and she looked up at him.

"What brought that on?" he asked with a contented grin.

She looked at him, thinking how much she loved sleeping naked. What an intimate feeling it was to embrace him in their sleep, to feel his smooth male flesh next to hers. She moved up his body, her smiling lips on their way to meet his.

"You."

At six a.m. Detective Alexandra Eames stood outside an apartment building interviewing witnesses. She stifled a yawn and nodded as she listened to Frederick "Chuy" Meara explain that he couldn't be certain the young woman he saw leaving the building at one a.m. was Summer Davis.

"I only saw her from behind." He said, "She was little, like Summer and had blue hair, but I didn't see her face…"

"Summer's hair isn't blue!" Kai shouted from a nearby squad car where he, Jarv and Johnny stood handcuffed and awaiting transport to MCS.

"I told you to be quiet!" Eames yelled back, "You guys had your chance to talk. You wanted to be difficult. Now you can just wait until I'm ready."

She was regretting her decision to let her partner skip this call as she entered the building and mounted the stairs. She had to admit her surprise at hearing a female voice answer his cell at two o'clock in the morning. 'Everyone deserves to let off steam once in a while,' she thought resignedly and re-entered the fifth floor apartment crime scene.

The officers of the Crime Scene Unit were busy photographing, cataloging, and bagging anything that might be considered evidence. Eames picked up two large evidence bags containing a pillow and a bloody baseball bat. She stared at them and pursed her lips in thought.

"Ma'am?"

Alex turned to the officer at her side, "Yes?"

"The coroner sent this up." He held out a small bag to her, "She found it tangled in his hair."

"Thank you." Eames took the sticky blue gob. She didn't have to smell it to recognize it as blueberry gum.

Summer Davis emerged from the subway with her backpack slung over her shoulder. As she rounded the corner to St. Mark's Place she saw flashing lights and a crowd of police officers and neighbors standing outside her apartment building. The closer she got, the more worried she became. Then she caught sight of her band mates standing between to officers and wearing handcuffs.

"What happened?" she demanded, marching straight up to her brother.

She struggled as one of the officers tried to pull her away. He shouted for her to stay back. She yelled at him to let her go.

In the commotion, no one heard Jarv's solemn, quiet answer, "Andrew's dead."

Alexandra Eames stepped out of the building just as the officer shoved Summer to the sidewalk.

"Get back." He ordered, "Or you'll be arrested for interfering with an investigation."

Summer pulled herself to her feet and Eames shouted, "Grab her!"


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

**Chapter Twelve**

Bobby woke with a tune swirling in his head and the feel of summer steam on his skin. He slapped his alarm clock and the music stopped. Rolling over to smile at Summer, he found an envelope on the pillow where her head should have been. He traced his own name written on the front and opened it with trepidation. 'Here it comes' he thought resignedly, ' I like you, Bobby, but you're too…smart, intense, weird…for me.' He slid the note from its wrapping and a slow smile of joy and relief spread across his face as he read her words.

_Bobby,_

_Has anyone ever told you that you are amazing? I'll bet they have…How about fantastic? Probably so…I'm going to have to work on increasing my vocabulary!_

_You're beautiful when you're sleeping. I didn't want to wake you, but I had to get going. I've already missed the prime spot at Tompkins Square once this season because of you and I can't afford to do that too many times when the tourists are out there. Baby's got rent to pay! _

_We've got gigs for the next three days, so I won't be able to come by. Call me if you want. I'll see you as soon as I can._

_Kisses,_

_Summer_

Bobby returned the note to its envelope and placed it on his night table next to the alarm clock. He hopped out of bed and went about his morning ritual with a spring in his step.

In the kitchen, he poured his morning coffee into a travel mug and noticed a blue and white gum wrapper lying on the counter. His smile widened with the knowledge that his whirlwind had left it there and swept it into the garbage before heading out the door.

In an interrogation room on the eleventh floor of One Police Plaza, Detective Eames was slamming her head against a wall that looked a lot like a green haired female musician.

"Look," Alex sighed, "No one would blame you. I saw the evidence…What he did to your pillow…I'd want to kill him..;"

"I didn't kill him." Summer returned angrily, "I wasn't even there."

"Where were you?" Eames asked for what seemed like the hundredth time, hoping she would get a different answer…She didn't.

"With a friend."

"All night?"

"Yes."

"What's your friend's name?"

"None of your business."

The detective put her hands behind her head and looked down for a moment, resisting the urge to scream.

"Summer." She said firmly, raising her head to look the suspect in the eye, "If you didn't do it, fine…Great...But, right now, all the evidence is pointing straight to you. You hated Andrew and everyone knows it. Your fingerprints are all over the apartment…"

Summer started to object and remind Alex that she lived there, but Eames stopped her with a raised hand. "If you want me to help you, you've got to help yourself. You have to give me something…anything…so I can clear you. Come on, your friend's name … a DNA sample …anything."

Summer glared at the detective and muttered, "Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty…Dad was right…I don't have to give you anything. There is no way you have any proof. You couldn't possibly have…I DIDN'T DO IT!"

A slight tapping from behind the glass caught Eames' attention. She glanced back to see her own reflection and had to wonder why she always did that…did she honestly expect that someday she would see the person signaling her?

"I'll be right back." She said with a terse nod to her suspect and went to the observation room.

Captain Danny Ross started speaking before Alex had fully entered the small, dark room, "You're getting nowhere. Let's give it a rest and go see how Logan is doing with the brother."

They walked across the hall to another observation room and Ross held the door for his detective. He looked up just in time to see Goren walk around the corner. He closed the door behind Eames and marched up to Bobby.

"Where have you been? Why couldn't your partner reach you?"

The big detective looked taken aback and immediately began fishing in his pocket for his cell phone. "What?" he asked, genuinely confused when he found the device wasn't on. "It's off, I don't know how that happened, I'm sorry…"

"No time." The captain gave his curt reply, "There's been another murder, possible connection to the Morgan girl. Your partner could use some help with the suspects. Come on, I'll brief you."

Bobby emerged from the captain's office a short time later looking calm and contemplative to all the outside world even though his heart was threatening to pound right out of his chest.

He entered the observation room and was mildly surprised to find Logan watching Eames as she attempted to glean some piece of information from Jarv Davis.

"What are you retarded or something? I already told you. Summer wouldn't kill anybody."

Logan switched off the speaker and turned to the opposite window where his partner; that girl with the red hair, they changed so often Goren could never keep their names straight; was conducting a similarly unsuccessful interrogation with Kai Hamlett.

"…I mean, just look at her!" the bassist said emphatically, "Summer's…what? Three feet tall and weighs twelve pounds…Whose ass could she really kick anyway?"

"These kids are nuts." Logan droned, "None of them is going to talk…It would be so much easier if we could just throw them all in one room and smack them around until somebody confesses."

"I need to talk to Eames," was Bobby's only response as he signaled his partner by tapping on the glass.

He escorted his partner to a quiet corner of the break room and took a little too much time getting their coffees as he mentally prepared himself for what he knew he had to do.

Bobby told her everything and listened patiently to her whispered rant about the idiocy of his actions.

With her lecture complete and no other suspect in the case, Alex had to ask, "Are you sure she was with you all night? You didn't sleep? No details, please."

"Yes, we slept." He answered quietly, "She woke me at about two a.m. and this morning there was a note…"

"What time did you fall asleep the first time?" Eames pressed.

"I'm not sure…I think around ten or eleven."

Alex gave him a stony look, "The victim was killed sometime between midnight and one a.m. She could have left and come back, Bobby. You would be the perfect alibi."

Bobby slowly shook his head, "I don't believe that."

"You don't want to believe it." Eames retorted.

"Ross said you had DNA." He continued, "A sample would clear her."

"She won't give us a sample…What does that tell you?"

He knew his partner was angry and that she had every right to be. She thought his judgment was clouded and he could see her point, but he honestly could not connect the free-spirited, fun loving Summer with the heinous, cold-blooded, bludgeoning murder of someone she knew. That kind of violence didn't fit her personality.

Sure, he'd seen Summer hit, kick, and trip her band mates in fits of anger. But it had always seemed good natured; more like a wake-up call than an actual intent to do harm.

"Let me talk to her." He sighed.

"You'd better do more than talk. We need that sample. And, whatever you do, don't tell Ross what you just told me."

Alex called Ross away from the observation room, where he stood watching Summer glare at the two way mirror with her arms folded across her chest, under the pretext of needing his help with John Newsom. That was Bobby's cue to take advantage of a few unmonitored moments with Summer.

Summer brightened when she saw him enter the room. "Get me out of here." She whispered as he sat down across from her.

"I want to." He answered, "but you have to give a DNA sample so we can clear you."

"No." she answered, "I don't want my genetic material on file."

"Spoken like a true conspiracy theorist. Your parents really are hippies, aren't they?" he cocked his head to the side as he looked at her with soft, pleading eyes. "If you don't do this, I am going to have to tell my boss about us and then I will be out of a job."

"There has to be another way." Her eyes begged as strongly as his, "You know I didn't do this."

Bobby sighed heavily and looked at his hands folded on the cold steel table, hating himself for what he was about to do.

"I can't be certain…" he began.

"What!?" Summer's voice echoed and her eyes flashed like lightening as storm clouds gathered around her in the tiny gray room.

"I was sleeping," he went on, forcing his voice to remain strong, "You could have left and come back…"

"I didn't." she growled.

"How can I be sure?" he asked simply, "Let me do a DNA test."

Summers face glowed red with anger and tears welled in her eyes, "FINE!"

Eames cringed at yet another tap on interrogation room glass. She knew she couldn't hold Ross back any longer. He wanted to see what was happening with Summer. Fortunately, she saw the lab technician headed for Bobby at the door to interrogation room two. When she and Ross were in position and switched on the speaker, the tech began putting on her latex gloves.

Summer slammed her fist on the table. "NO!" she yelled and pointed at Bobby, "You do it…Since you're so unsure."

Her voice was soft and dripping with venom. Goren motioned for a pair of gloves while green fire flew from Summer's hard eyes and engulfed his soul. He cupped her chin and, as he brought the swab toward her waiting mouth, she began to hum.

Ross turned to Eames and asked, "Why is she humming the tune to 'Bobby's Girl'?"


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

**Chapter Thirteen**

Goren and Eames stepped out of the SUV in the quiet suburban neighborhood on the fringes of Stelton, New Jersey.

What's this supposed to accomplish? Alex snipped as they approached the door of the Davis residence.

"I just need to talk to them, alright?" Bobby snapped back, "There are unidentified fingerprints on the murder weapon. They might be able to give us a lead."

Eames pushed the doorbell and admonished her partner, "You're grasping at straws…when the DNA comes in…you'll see…"

In a holding cell back at One Police Plaza, Summer tormented the entire squad by banging out a fast-paced rhythm on the bars, wall, bunk and anything else she could find while howling her latest song at the top of her lungs.

"_If you like to eat_

_Eat her heat_

_The fleshy meat_

_Green haired girls are neat_

_Punk rock chicks taste really sweet_

_You've had your fill_

_Had your fill of Average swill_

_Normal girls do not fulfill_

_Punk Rock chicks sure fit the bill_

_Green haired girls taste better_

_We're tighter hotter juicier and wetter_

_I said that_

_Green haired girls taste better_

_We're tighter hotter juicier and wetter…_

"HEY!" Logan entered the holding cell area with an angry snarl on his face, "Knock it off!"

He was barely heard over the commotion as Summer continued.

"_If you had your way_

_you'd chomp snatch every day_

_You would even pay _

_punk chicks for a facial lay…"_

"SHUT UP!" He shouted.

The object of his annoyance went on completely undeterred.

"_Normal girls you hate_

_You know you'd rather masturbate_

_Being average seals their fate_

_You want a punk cunt on your plate_

_Green haired girls taste better_

_We're tighter hotter juicier and wetter._

_I said that_

_Green haired girls taste better_

_We're tighter hotter juicier and wetter…"_

"What's going on in here?" Captain Ross yelled as he joined the detective.

"_Green haired girls taste better_

_We're tighter hotter juicier and wetter…_"

"She won't shut up." Logan replied, "And I'm about ready to go in there and give her a reason to yell."

Summer stopped her song abruptly and fixed the detective with an enticing emerald gaze, "Do I get to call you Daddy while you do it?" she cooed.

"Leave it." The captain cut off Mike's retort, "We have more important things to do."

Summer gave a single loud clap as they turned to leave, "Thank you, sir, May I have another?" she called to Logan's retreating back and laughed at his irritated groan.

Detective Robert Goren had a moment of concern when it appeared that Ed Davis was going to eject them from the property. He ranted about government conspiracies and police frame-jobs and even called the detectives "pigs." Fortunately, his wife was able to calm him and convince him that, no matter how distasteful talking with them might be, this was their best chance to help their daughter.

Bobby soon found himself sitting at a modest Formica table across from Ed and Anita Davis sipping a cup of green tea while his heart sank. Summer's mother honestly had nothing to offer and her father was simply rambling.

"…never trusted the boy after that," Ed finished a story about Andrew, "I mean, I understand being wasted, I've had some experience…but he pooped in my hat! I can show you the stains…" He disappeared toward the back of the house, still muttering to himself.

Eames' phone jingled from her pocket and she excused herself to answer it.

"You're sure Jerry and Summer haven't any other friends?" Goren almost pleaded Mrs. Davis.

Anita shook her head, "Not that I've met. They only ever come to town with their band and we never go to the city…All that pollution…I keep telling the kids, it'll turn your aura brown."

Bobby nodded, "Thank you. I'm going to leave my card with you." He fished around in his notebook for one, "If you think of anything at all…"

"Detective Robert O. Goren" Summer's mother read aloud. "Hmm, do people call you...?"

"Bobby?" Alex called to him as she reentered the kitchen, "The results are in…We need to get back."

The two detectives exchanged glances. Bobby's questioning and hopeful. Alex's sorrowful and apologetic.

Mrs. Davis rose to escort her guests to the door and almost ran into Detective Goren when he stopped in front of a portrait in the living room. A beautiful green eyed little girl with shining chestnut curls sat, hands folded on a table and looking into a mirror.

"How old was Summer when this was taken?" He asked.

Anita smiled, "Three." She answered, "That's one of my favorite pictures of the girls."

"Girls?" Alex looked confused.

"The twins." Mrs. Davis replied, "Summer and Rain…well, she calls herself Erin now…"

"I told you never to mention that name!" Ed interrupted angrily as he reappeared with a hat in his hands.

Anita sighed, "Ed, she's our…"

"I have only one daughter." He stated flatly.

Mrs. Davis turned back to the detectives, "she lives in the city, too."

"She works for the government!" Ed continued to argue with his wife's back.

Anita rolled her eyes, "She's an investment banker."

"Same thing!" Her husband countered hotly, "My own child! A capitalist!"

"What do you think you do with the store?" his wife turned to face him.

"I accept trades." He spat, "I prefer them to cash."

"Oh!" Anita nodded, "Like the goat that nearly destroyed the entire garden!"

Bobby quietly thanked the Davises for their time and slipped out of the house with Eames.

Logan entered the holding cell with a smile on his face. Getting rid of that annoying freak of nature was going to feel so good. "Stand up and put your hands behind your back." He ordered.

"Why?" Summer responded without moving from the bunk.

"You're being sent to arraignment…The test came back. You did it. You're done."

Summer sprang to her feet with a shocked look on her face, "Bull—"

"Shit!" Bobby slammed his fist against the dashboard. "The captain's not in his office."

"Bobby, will you calm down! I don't understand." Eames tried to keep one eye on the road and the other on her partner.

"She has a twin!" Bobby spoke rapidly, "Identical twins have identical DNA, but different fingerprints…It fits!"

"It doesn't fit." Alex disagreed, "They live in entirely different worlds that have nothing to do with each other. Why would an investment banker want to kill a couple of punks?"

"Let's ask her." Goren suggested, "But first, we have to tell the captain. We need to keep Summer out of court."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen:

Chapter Fourteen:

Summer sat quietly between Captain Ross and Detective Logan with hurt and angry tears shimmering in her eyes. She watched through the glass as the journey toward justice neared its end.

"I really don't understand how any of this can possibly help." Erin Davis spoke to Detective Goren and shivered a bit in the unpleasantly cool interrogation room, "I haven't seen my sister in months."

Bobby marveled at the young woman across the table. He could have been looking at Summer, except for the brown hair pulled back in a severe bun and the eyes; true they were green, but they lacked the humor and passion that made her twin so alluring. "We just need some background information." He replied, "What was she like as a child?"

Erin chuckled and shook her head, "Oh, god…the fights…"

"Fights?" the detective asked.

"We got into some kind of physical battle every day until we were twelve or thirteen," she said. "She was out to hurt me and wouldn't stop until I started to cry or Mom threatened her. When her rage was triggered, nothing could stop her."

"That's not true." Summer whispered to the men beside her, "She's telling it backward."

"Really?" Goren encouraged Ms. Davis to go on.

"Oh, yes." She replied with relish, "I remember one time she scratched my face and neck so badly that I bled, just because I played a little trick on her."

"Trick?" Summer stated in shock, "She tried to…"

"Just shut up and watch." Logan ordered quietly.

"A trick?" Bobby grinned and laughed lightly.

Erin laughed with him, "We were 14, she was snoring, her nose was plugged up and her mouth was open. So I stuffed her mouth with tissues and she blew up like a balloon," she paused a moment as hilarity overtook her. When she continued, her face tightened with anger, "The next night, I decided to 'suffocate' her again, but she was waiting for me, pretending to be asleep. I crept over to her bed and started to stuff her mouth, but she started screaming at the top of her lungs and clawing at me. It was 2 a.m., and there I was hunched over her when Dad threw open the door and sentenced me to thirty days with no TV."

"Over a little prank like that?" he commiserated.

"Oh, it was always like that." She answered glumly, "Over the years, my sister, the 'special' child, decided she was superior just because our parents thought so. The 'princess' could do no wrong and made my life miserable with her existence. Our parents found everything she did just 'wonderful'. Neither one of them was ever willing to take my side. I never got praise for doing anything well, even though I was the best student and had loads of friends. And when I'd go to my parents because my sister had done some injustice, they gave me absolutely no support."

"That must have been hard." Bobby empathized.

"You're telling me!" Erin retorted, "I'm the one that went to college, on a full scholarship no less. I'm the one who has a good job, a nice apartment. I'm an upstanding member of my community! But do they see that? NO! It's always, 'Oh, isn't Summer so creative?' and 'Doesn't Summer sing like an angel?' Damn it! She's a filthy punk living in a rat hole on St. Mark's Place and begging for coins in Tompkins Square. Oh, I know she calls it 'street performing' but she's no better than those crazy homeless people you trip over on every street corner…Bet they don't think she's so perfect now."

Bobby placed a comforting hand over hers and looked sympathetically into her eyes, "You had to make them understand…"

'Of course, they were never going to see it on their own." She nodded, "Now they will understand that I'm better than she is."

"And your sister had to be punished…" he coaxed.

"Exactly…" she smiled.

"So you killed two birds with one stone." Bobby smiled triumphantly.

"Or…" she laughed, "Two worthless freaks…It's perfect. Mom and Dad finally realize that I'm the good twin, Summer goes to jail and cries over the loss of her 'friends'…no big loss, if you ask me, but there's no accounting for taste."

Bobby leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "Weren't you afraid someone would see you?"

"No, silly! That fish market is pitch black at night." the former Rain Davis giggled, her eyes lit up with mischief and Bobby nearly shivered at how eerily she resembled Summer. "Besides, I toss on a crazy blue wig and, from a distance; even our mother would swear I was her."

"What about the apartment building?" Bobby asked, looking for clarification, "That stairwell is pretty narrow and people know your sister very well there."

"Oh that…" she smiled victoriously, "I took one of her crazy outfits. I even made sure I got that loser's blood all over it. Then I changed in the alley and tossed it in the dumpster, you know, just to make sure there was extra evidence against her."

Goren stood slowly and walked around the table, "Erin Davis. You are under arrest for the murders of Esther Morgan and Andrew McKown…"


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen:

Chapter Fifteen:

"Why are we doing this again?" Eames huffed as she and her partner sweated their way up the eighth flight of stairs to the roof of an apartment building.

"I just need to talk to her, okay." Goren appealed.

As they opened the heavy steel door at the top of the stairs, they heard Jarv Davis' booming voice, "Come on, guys. Let's try it again. 'My Alexandra' two…three…four…"

The detectives stepped onto the roof while the song crashed to life. Five sweaty young people played for all they were worth in the hot August sun. Andrew McKown's replacement was an attractive, leggy female with an athletic build and a gift for rhythm. The boys in the band seemed to jostle for position near the drum kit while Jarv half sang, half screamed the lyrics of his latest tune.

"_Licking her lips like she's ready for play_

_She reads me my rights and then ruins my day._

_Wrenching my forearm, so tightly she squeezed_

_With a clean, quick, jerk she_

_Brings me down to my knees._

_She breaks out the handcuffs_

_And locks me in place_

_I'm at full arousal when she shouts in my face._

_With latex gloved hand_

_My exit she entered_

_She asked the questions_

_I gave the answers._

_She whips me and she beats me_

_With heels in my back_

_Then pulls out her nightstick_

_And heads for my crack._

_You fill me up when I'm feelin' down._

_My Alexandra, she's packin' brown."_

Alex was crossing her arms and glaring at the band while Bobby was covering his mouth with one large hand and trying not to laugh when Summer noticed them.

"Hey!" she smiled as she approached, "What are you doing here?"

"I…um…just wanted to see h-how you were…" Bobby glanced between the violet haired woman and his partner.

Eames took the cue, "And I need to have a few words with your brother about this new song…Excuse me…"

Summer waved her away and focused her attention on the big detective standing before her, "I'm okay."

"Are…Are you…going to the sentencing tomorrow?" he asked.

"Yeah, I think I should." She replied sadly, "She needs support, even if she doesn't want it…Who knew Rain was jealous of me? How crazy is that?"

"I'm s-sorry I made you take that D…" Bobby started and was quickly interrupted.

"Shhh," Summer hushed him reaching up to place her forefinger against his lips, "Tell you what…You don't say you're sorry and I won't say I told you so…Deal?"

"Deal." He smiled.

For a moment, silence passed between them and they stood looking out at the New York City skyline.

"So." She grinned as the wind started to swirl around him, "You still interested, or what?"

Bobby looked into her eyes, the surprise plain on his face, "Are you? Even after…"

"Everyone makes mistakes." Summer quipped, "I'm willing to give you another chance."

"In that case," he replied, "Yes…I'm interested."

"Good." She smirked, "Just don't screw up this time."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen:

Chapter Sixteen:

It was a beautiful, crisp fall morning in Manhattan. Detectives Robert Goren and Alexandra Eames sat at their desks sipping coffee and finishing up paperwork on yet another closed case.

"No rest for the wicked." Bobby sighed as he picked up the next form on the stack beside him.

Alex looked up and grinned, "Well, apparently you've been a very bad boy."

"What?" he asked confused.

"Visitor." She stated flatly and pointed behind him.

Summer fairly skipped into MCS and Bobby couldn't hide his smile at the sight of her. Her black and white pigtails were bouncing against the shoulders of the jet black turtleneck she wore with matching leggings, her favorite backpack slung over her shoulder and ever-present guitar case in her hand.

"How's it going, pork chop?" she quipped at Eames as she took a seat on the corner of Bobby's desk.

"I'm fine, Summer." Alex answered, she was beginning to get used to her partner's odd little girlfriend, "How are you?"

"Great." She replied. "That friend of a friend you sent over to the club thinks he can get us a record deal…Thanks for that, by the way…"

"Summer" Bobby interrupted, "Did you just drop by to chat or did you have a reason for coming here?"

"Oh!" she exclaimed, remembering her purpose, "You forgot something this morning…"

He heard a soft jingle and looked up to see his handcuffs dangling from one delicate finger.

"Thanks." He said a bit too quickly, and snatched them from her as Eames stifled a laugh. "I'm…uh…kind of busy right now..." he blushed, "Can I call you later?"

"Sure." She grinned and hopped off the desk, "I've got to run anyway…Maybe I'll see you at home."

"Hey, Eames, what do you make of…?" Logan rounded the corner and caught sight of Summer, "You, again…" he groaned.

"Sorry, 'Big Daddy' no time to play today…I'll have to give you a rain check!" she giggled wildly at his agitated sigh as she bounced toward the elevators.

"Goren…" he growled, "Your girlfriend…"

Bobby didn't even try to hide his smile. "I know."

He turned back to his desk to begin straightening the recently disordered stack of papers and caught the clean, sharp scent of freshly mowed grass with the barest hint of musk underneath. Even the daunting pile of paperwork could not temper the uplifting effects of his cheerful little whirlwind. He breathed deeply of her intoxicating scent, wanting to capture it before it could dissipate, and smiled. For once in his life, Bobby Goren was completely happy.

**The End**


End file.
